Scapegoats
by paladin1916
Summary: M/M in AU. Very OOC.
1. Like a Rolling Stone

_A/N: A meme seems to be developing that Matthew is a sensitive new age guy, somewhat whipped by his mother and Mary. This storey is tendered as a counterpoint._

_The storey is rated 'M' for coarse language, mental abuse, jealousy, anger and physical violence. There will be little smut and probably less fluff. I do not know what the age cut off for 'M' is but 30 seems about right._

_Each chapter title is the title of a Bob Dylan song. At least one line in the song will be relevant to the plot of the chapter. I concede that this is anachronistic but there is no better writer of love songs. Singer of same not so much. You may want to shop around. Performances for most are available on YouTube. For the Chapter One title I prefer the version by Seal and Jeff Beck. Your mileage may differ._

_The theme throughout is 'Don't Think Twice, It's All Right' as performed by the Kronos Quartet. _

_Without further ado... _

Scapegoats

Like a Rolling Stone

Sunday, April 6, 1913

Pregnant.

The word, the concept, the implications ricocheted around his mind. Mary was pregnant. He looked at her sitting on the sofa, head down, worrying a handkerchief to shreds in her hands. He looked at Robert and Cora and Violet, all giving him concerned looks. He could feel his whole body vibrating. He felt as he could faint. Had Mary told them he, he was the father? He stood up. "I ... I didn't ...I'm not..." he managed to stammer out.

Robert stood up as well and put his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "We know, we are not accusing you of anything. Please sit down." Matthew sat down again. Robert remained standing. He gave Matthew an unctuous smile. "The reason we asked you here..." Robert paused looking for the proper way to phrase his request " the thing is, Mary hide her situation from us for so long that it is too late to send her away; word is already out. So the only thing that can save the family's honour" he let that to sink in "is for Mary to marry, the sooner the better" He stopped and all of them, except Mary, stared at Matthew.

They want me to marry her? To marry her when she is pregnant with some other man's bastard? To save the honour of the family? Matthew felt trapped. "Can't she marry the father?" his voice still quavered. He had to get control of himself. Anger was starting to override the initial shock.

"No, that is not possible."

"Why, is he already married?" Matthew's tone was firm now; firm, but bitter.

"No, he is dead"

"Who is it?"

"It does not matter who he was"

"It does to me, if I'm to be father to his bastard. Who was it?"

"Kemal Pamuk" they all turned to look at Mary. With head still down she spoke in such a quiet voice that Matthew could hardly hear her. "He died in my bed while he was ..."

"Impregnating you!" Matthew was incredulous.

"Yes"

"Did you love him?"

"No" she shook her head. "It was just lust; a need for excitement"

Matthew stared at her.

"There will be a very generous settlement for you. I will top it up to seventy five thousand pounds." Robert put in.

Cora glared at Robert. She got up and sat beside Matthew. She put her hand on his back. "We know this is a terrible way to start your life together but given time and some understanding and forgiveness you can make it work. You know Robert and I did not marry for love"

Matthew stood and turned to Cora. "You married for money" he spit out "you weren't carrying someone else's bastard." He walked over to the window, he could feel tears coming.

"That will be enough of that sort of language, the ladies do not have to hear it" Robert remonstrated.

"What would you call it? A love child? No, a lust baby? How about a bundle of Turkish Delight? No? Let's call a spade a spade. It's a bastard."

Robert was red in the face. He took a step towards Matthew. Matthew put his fists up. "Do you want to fight old man? I feel a powerful need to hit someone right now."

"Stop it" they both looked at Violet. In the sudden silence only Mary could be heard, sobbing. "We have burdened Matthew with a great deal to think about; we should give him some time." She stood up. "Let us leave him be." She motioned towards towards the door of the library.

Mary did not get up. "I would like to speak to Matthew alone"

Matthew glared at her. "You are the last person I want to talk to." He looked at the rest. "I'm going home. I will let you know my decision at seven tonight." He walked to the door and threw it open so fast he startled Carson who was on the other side.

The slam of the main door reverberated through the house.

"Well that went about as well as could be expected" Violet concluded.

"But he.. "Cora started.

"Oh he will agree to marry Mary. We had him as soon as Robert made it a matter of honour. But don't be surprised if he drives a hard bargain, he is a lawyer after all." Violet gave Mary a sympathetic look. "I do not think he will be a bad husband. Notwithstanding his willingness to fight Robert I do not think he will beat you as long as you do not openly cuckold him"

"I am not like that!" Mary snapped.

"All evidence to the contrary. All I am saying dear is to be discrete with your need for excitement. You can lead separate lives as long as you do not embarrass him. He strikes me as the morose and silent type. He'll probably drink himself to death before he is fifty."

"You are not helping" Cora interjected.

"I am just being practical. Most aristocratic marriages are like this to one degree or another. Why do you think our type maintain separate bedrooms?"

"I am not going to marry him" Mary said.

Robert shook his finger at Mary. "We have already discussed this. Your choices are to marry Matthew and help salvage this family's honour which you have done so much to damage or you can be cast out without a penny. And do not expect that your mother or grandmother will help you although I imagine that you will end with some sort of protector; women like you always seem to." He glared at her. "Make up your mind"

"I want to talk to Matthew" Mary headed for the door.

"Let Carson tell Branson to bring the auto around" Cora said.

"No thank you, I will walk. I have a lot to think about."

By the time Mary got her coat on and was out the door Matthew was already out of sight.

-0-

Matthew charged into Crawley House. He threw his coat at the hall bench.

"Molesly!" he yelled.

When a flustered Molesly appeared Matthew thrust a one pound note at him. "Here. Get Mrs. Bird and Susan and go to the pub and have a drink. I don't want to see any of you back here for a least an hour."

"But..but" Molesly stammered.

"Get going!" Matthew roared.

Isobel came downstairs. "What on earth is the matter Matthew? I'm sure that they can hear you in Ripon."

Matthew motioned at her to wait until the servants cleared out.

They went into the parlour. Isobel sat down. "Well?"

"Mary is pregnant". Matthew was shocked at his mother's lack of reaction. "You know already?"

"Yes, it has been the main topic of gossip in the village for the past week. I imagine a sizable portion of the West Riding knows by now as well."

"So why didn't you tell me?"

"I was waiting for you to tell me"

"Tell you? You think I'm the father?"

"Well who else could it be?"

Matthew snorted. "You're going to love this"

Isobel gave him a quizzical look.

Matthew continued. "Do you remember that Turkish diplomat who died up there last December?" Isobel nodded. "Well he died in Mary's bed. While he blew his wad of seed into her he blew out his heart." Now he received the reaction from his mother he had originally expected.

"So why did they want to see you..." Matthew could see her working it out in her mind "No. They can't expect you to marry her..."

"Oh they certainly do"

"But you don't have to.."

Neither Matthew nor Isobel heard Mary slip through the main door and stand in the hall eavesdropping on them.

"I'm afraid I do, They have trapped me pure and simple. They have made it a matter of honour, If I don't marry her the family will be disgraced. So what am I to do? I will marry her."

Matthew waved his arms about. "And the ironic thing is that I wanted to marry her. I loved her. I was going to court her the old fashioned way with flowers and candy and poetry and such. I was going to make her love me. I was going to melt the heart of the cold and proper Lady Mary! Who knew all you had to do was push her on a bed and she'd open her legs for you?"

"Matthew! Don't talk like that even if it's true!" Isobel scolded.

Mary had been holding her breath and she let it out softly. We can make it work she thought. It will be hard at first but we can make it work. He loved me. I can soften his anger over time and make him love me again. We will make it work. She decided not to talk to him right then and slipped back out the door.

Matthew thought he heard the door. He stuck his head into the hall but saw no one there.

"I imagine they want to get the wedding over as soon as possible and then I suppose Mary will be moving in here" Isobel said. She looked around the room wondering how they were going to fit in the unwanted bride.

"There will be a quick marriage but you don't have to worry about her moving in, after the ceremony I'm leaving."

"Leaving?"

"Going away, farewell, adieu, so long. I'm not staying around to raise that Turk's bastard. I'm leaving "

"But you'll still inherit."

"If I inherit I'll be an absentee landlord."

"So are you going back to Manchester to practice ..."

"No. The only reason I went into law was to give my family a nice middle" he gave her a half smile and corrected himself "a nice upper middle life. I imagined I would have a loving and faithful wife and live in a cozy brick cottage with a large garden filled with a brood of cute little blued eyed blond children. There's no chance of that now so what's the point. They can take care of my sluttish spouse and her love child. I'll make the child legitimate but they aren't going to have my life."

"But what are you going to do?"

"I'll get you settled back in Manchester and then... I believe the French established the Foreign Legion to deal with situations such as this."

"You can't be serious"

"I'm afraid I am. A nasty and brutish existence is the only way I'm going to be able to purge myself of the stench of this place."

"You just can't throw your life away."

"I threw it away when I opened that damn letter from Robert inviting us here.

"I can't come with you"

"What do you mean? Of course you can come, what could possibly keep you here?"

"You forget I leased the house in Manchester for two years. I'm stuck here until September 1914."

"I can't stay that long, it would kill me"

She reached out and hugged him. "I know. I'll be OK. I have my work at the hospital, I'll be fine. Just don't anything too crazy"

-0-

Matthew trudged up to the Great House. He had apologized to Molesly for his outburst. Molesly had accepted the apology with good grace indicating he knew the pressure Matthew was under. Apparently everyone knew. He also let it slip that Lady Grantham had fired Anna, Lady Mary's maid, without a reference, because Anna had helped conceal the pregnancy. Matthew shook his head, they can't fire their daughter so they fire the maid instead. Typical aristocrats. He was well rid of them.

Carson greeted Matthew at the door. Matthew thought he detected a faint scowl on the butler's face. Heard that I violated your precious Lady Mary did you? You don't know the half of it.

Robert, Cora, Violet and Mary were waiting in the Library. They were all dressed in evening clothes.

Not bothering with any pleasantries Matthew got to the point. "I will marry Mary" He watched their reactions. Robert and Cora had relieved smiles, Mary gave a small nod and looked down at her hands, only Violet did not react. "On terms" he added. Now Violet gave a faint smile.

"Which are?" asked Robert.

"The wedding will be this coming Friday..."

"But that doesn't give us time to plan..."interrupted Cora. Robert scowled at her.

"There is nothing to plan" replied Matthew. "There will only be the bare ceremony church law requires. There will be no guests other than immediate family, no attendants, no fancy dress, no gifts, no music, no flowers, no wedding feast."

Ignoring Cora's 'buts' Matthew continued "His Lordship knows the Bishop of York?" Robert nodded. "Then I will leave it to you to see to having the reading of the banns dispensed with." Again Robert nodded. "I will get the licence tomorrow in Ripon. I imagine somewhere in the family treasure chest there is a spare wedding band Mary can have." Robert nodded a third time.

Matthew paused. There were no comments so he kept on. "As for the terms, firstly you will have Murray waiting in the back of the church with a bank draft, payable solely to me, for the full seventy five thousand pounds."

"Why have Murray there?" Robert asked.

"Because I trust a fellow solicitor to honour the deal. Oh, and you will have your bank advise my bank in Manchester that the money is legitimately mine. Secondly, you will allow my mother to have free use of Crawley House until she can move back to Manchester. Her house there is leased until September 1914."

"Why would she move away?" asked Cora.

"She does not wish to stay in Downton if I am not here"

"Not here? Where are you and Mary going?"

"I have no idea where Mary is going. Hell I suppose. I am leaving Downton for good as soon as the ceremony is over." Matthew could hear Mary gasp, he did not look at her.

"You can't leave! That's not part of the deal!" Robert was getting angry.

"You are paying to make her bastard legitimate." Matthew retorted. "That's all your money is buying, you're not getting my life." Matthew waited for four beats, to get his own temper under control "And I'm leaving whether you pay me or not. I have had enough of your hypocritical aristocratic ways. Your choice. Well?"

"Please don't go" They all looked at Mary. "We can make it work, please stay" she pleaded.

Matthew shook his head. "None of you have thought this through have you? That bastard boy she is carrying" he said, pointing at Mary and then putting up his hand to forestall any suggestion it might be a girl "It's too big a joke for God to pass up for it to be anything but a boy, becomes legitimate the moment we marry and thus is the heir. Meanwhile suppose we do manage to make it work" he snorted "and she squeezes out a beautiful blond blue eyed boy which is my natural child, presuming of course she hasn't been shagging all the blond blue eyed men in Yorkshire. So who is the true heir? But who gets the title and the estate? The little bastard. Of course you don't care, it's your grandson either way. But I would care, and would brood about it and end up hating him. And no child deserves that kind of hatred. So it's better I leave. And anyway I'm not going to hang around while she spreads her legs for every Dick, Peter and Johnson who waves his block and tackle in her face. If she's going to have open house at cock alley I want to be well away. You can put out the word that you banished me from Downton Abbey because of my discreditable conduct towards your daughter"

Matthew thought Robert was going to take a swing at him but Cora grabbed Robert's arm and hissed something in his ear. "Is that all?" Robert forced out through clenched teeth.

"Two more things. You will assume all responsibility for raising the child " Matthew thought he would pushing his luck to use the word 'bastard' again and "caring for her" he gestured at Mary "although you don't have to worry about a bed for her, I imagine she can sleep anywhere, standing up even.

Robert clenched his fist, and ground his teeth but just nodded

"And you will rehire Mary's maid and give her a month's wages as compensation for making her pay the price for Mary's misconduct."

"But she betrayed..." Cora protested.

"She followed orders. If she prefers not to renter your service you will give her a glowing letter of reference and six months salary in lieu of notice."

"But" Cora started but this time Robert put his hand on her arm and shook his head at her.

"So do we have a deal?" asked Matthew.

"Yes" replied Robert.

"Good. Shall we say ten a.m. for the ceremony? I would like to catch the noon train."

Robert and Cora both nodded. Mary was sobbing into her hands. Violet was giving Matthew a hard look of appraisal.

"In the circumstances I will dispense with the traditional shaking of hands. Good bye" Matthew gave them a slight bow and headed for the door.

As Matthew walked away from Downton Abbey he did not look back.

_A/N: Posting will be intermittent. It is high summer after all._


	2. One More Cup of Coffee

_A/N: I am remiss in not acknowledging the ownership of Lord Fellowes of the characters and concept of Downton Abbey. It is very much appreciated that he does not have Smithers release the hounds when we climb over his wall and play in his garden._

_The version of the chapter title song I recommend is the one by Steve Earle and Lucia Micarelli._

One More Cup of Coffee

Sunday, April 6, 1913 to Thursday, April 10, 1913

It took Matthew five nights, four days, three bottles of whiskey, two cold buckets of water and one really bad cup of coffee to settle his future.

Every lawyer will tell you that you cannot settle a lawsuit while the respective sides are in the 'I'm going to take every shilling that S.O.B. has / I'm not going to pay that S.O.B. a shilling.' stage. Tempers must cool. It took Matthew three nights, one day and the three bottles of whiskey to navigate this stage. If it seems like there is a day missing that is because Matthew had no idea what happened to Tuesday. A reward is offered.

The first night, Sunday night that is, Matthew was badly in need of a drink or six. His need was so bad that he contemplated downing the decanter of the insipid sherry his mother favoured, but after rooting around in the drinks cabinet he found a bottle of 'Old Fighting Temeraire' that his father must have received from a grateful patient, for surely he would never have bought such rot gut for himself. The liquor had not aged well but it was fit for the purpose. His mother had fled to her room and the servants were no doubt cowering in their rooms; Matthew did not want to drink alone so he put on his coat and went outside to sit in the garden and drink with the stars.

It was a perfect night, clear and cold, the stars twinkled in their courses. During that long dark whiskey time of the soul Matthew confronted the demons of his rage.

Resentment had been the first demon to appear, popping up not seconds after Mathew had realized the Robert, Cora and Violet wanted him to marry her. He could not speak her name. No time to think about it, they had played the high trump straight off. It was a matter of honour. And he was trapped. They knew him well enough, that he could not ignore his priggish middle class belief in honour. If he had been one of them, an upper class twit schooled in their hypocritical ways, he would have just batted away the honour gambit, pulled up a chair, rubbed his hands together, and said 'let's talk cash'. And probably come away with a nice round !00,000 pounds. No, as they had fired Anna for her sins, they suborned him.

He felt as if he were a boiler with the safety valves tied closed and the stokers pouring in the coal. Steam was starting to leak from the seams and rivets. Only sips of the cool, burning whiskey kept him from boiling over.

The demon Bitterness muscled its way to the front. He had loved her. He had idolized her. He had worshipped her. And what was she? Clay from top to bottom overlaid with a very thin layer of gilt. Lustful, not loving. He had wasted the last six month, and thrown away the rest, of his life over her. And for what? Nothing. Not even a mess of pottage. No, not nothing, worse than nothing, a life sentence of lip service to a sham marriage, condemned to be a priest who had lost his faith but was too cowardly to proclaim his apostasy.

The fire within him was so close to the surface he thought if he pointed his hands at the sky fireballs would shoot up into the sky. He tried. The Milky Way mocked his efforts. The waxing crescent Moon suggested he have another drink He did.

A very tiny demon appeared. Matthew was puzzled, he didn't recognize it and so he asked which one it was. Hatred it replied in a tiny voice. But I don't hate... oh the baby. Yes, after the other demons have all retired I will be here, getting bigger with every birthday of his, you know it's a boy don't you?, until the rising gorge chokes you to death. The entail will be well and truly broken then, it won't be your son that inherits. It'll be Pamuk's. I am patient, let these other demons have their sport with you for now, in the end I will get you.

Matthew took another drink. He stared into the constellations. Was it colder in the grave or in his heart he wondered.

Jealousy swept the other demons aside. It's me you're waiting for, it sneered. These other demons are just a sideshow. I rule you. You thought you would be her 'one and only' but now you know you're just going to be 'one of many'. And not the first. Ha! Ha! Women always remember their first. And he was good, very good, bigger and better than you'll ever be. He made her moan with pleasure, all you'll do is make her yawn with boredom. While you're doing your husbandly duty she is going to be comparing you to him. Unfavourably. Ha! Ha! And there's lots more where Pamuk came from. All better than you. And she'll won't be shy about rubbing your nose in it. Ha. Ha.

At some point, it must have been Monday, Matthew made Molesley go buy two bottles of whiskey. He needed reinforcements.

Sometime late Monday a final demon appeared. Chagrin. What are you doing here? Matthew asked, I have done nothing to be ashamed of. Oh? The demon replied. Mr. Grewgious would not agree.

Mr. Grewgious had been an ancient solicitor, on his last innings when Matthew had started his articles of clerkship. Matthew had been exultant about completing his first foreclosure when Mr. Grewgious had checked his enthusiasm. Remember that a family is sleeping rough tonight because you had them cast out of their home But they didn't pay their mortgage Matthew protested. It had to be done, Mr. Grewgious agreed, but it should be quickly and dispassionately, without taunting. But they won't hear what I said. But I did. And what about next time? Who will hear then? Remember this. Words are a solicitor's sword. They all have an edge; once you cast them out no telling who will be cut.

The memory of what he had said to her and about her seared. Chagrin smiled. Told you so.

Matthew took another drink. He started to think about solutions ad fin.

The demons attacked en masse They took turns, 'After you my dear Alphonse', "No I insist you go first'. There was no respite for Matthew. There was always at least one demon poking at him, taunting him, reminding him.

Finally they got bored. They offered Matthew terms of settlement. Hatred was their spokesman. A curious choice Matthew thought, until he heard the terms.

Break something Hatred suggested. It'll make you feel better. No, no I'm not like that. Come on, break that bottle, you know you want to. No, no I'm not like ... Then hit someone. You know you wanted to punch Robert. You wanted to hit her didn't you? I would never hurt... Just with words eh interjected Chagrin. Burn the Abbey, kill them all cried Jealousy. The other demons all started at it disgust. Sorry it shrugged its shoulders, I got carried away.. But that faux pas was all that Matthew needed. I'm not like that. You can all go to hell.

Presumably Matthew's battle with Rage raged into and through Tuesday. We do not know, Matthew can't say and the demons won't. All that is known that at the hour of death, 3 a.m., on Wednesday Matthew stuffed the last of the demons, Hatred, into the last whiskey bottle and jammed home the cork. He knew the cork was not secure, that at some point the demons would work it loose and escape; but until then he could go back to the land of the living.

He was a burnt out shell but he lived. He could get on with his life. He took one last look at the stars and fell asleep.

-0-

Matthew woke gasping. He was soaking wet. Through blurry eyes he saw his mother handing a bucket to Molesley and taking another one from him.

"If you're going to wallow in self pity you might as well do it in the mud." she said and she dumped the second bucket of water over him. "Are you going to get up or should Molesley get two more buckets?"

Matthew sputtered. "I'm getting up." It was still dark. "What time is it?"

"Just after six a.m. Your employers are expecting you in today and we thought you would like an early start."

Matthew pushed himself up. His head was pounding and notwithstanding his wetness on the outside he had a raging thirst. "That was very kind of you Mother"

-0-

As Matthew was leaving for the train station his mother said "We are going to dinner at the Abbey tonight" when he scowled at her she continued "I accepted on your behalf seeing as you were indisposed at the time".

"You have been entirely too helpful Mother"

-0-

Havel and Clark were not surprised that Matthew was leaving the firm on such short notice. Relieved in fact. My reputation proceeds me Matthew thought. All that they asked that he write a leaving memo for each file so that whomever replaced him could follow what was going on.

Matthew quickly realized reviewing each file and writing a memo was going to take the better part of two days. Unless... unless he worked straight through. He smiled to himself and composed a telegram to his mother:

MUST FINALIZE FILES STOP NOT HOME TONIGHT STOP REGRETS FOR DINNER

He had regrets but that was not one.

-0-

He almost forgot to get the marriage licence, remembering just in time to pick it during the afternoon tea break. The clerk in the Registrar's office seemed to be expecting him. Everyone knows Crawley, or more accurately Grantham, business Matthew thought.

-0-

Matthew finished the last memo at 4:18 a.m. Thursday morning. He was very tired. The milk train for Downton left at 5:35 a.m. He was afraid that if he laid his head down for even a moment he would miss that train and the next two beside. Coffee. Coffee was supposed to be better at keeping you awake than tea. Mr. Clark was a coffee drinker. Matthew went to the tea room and found a canister of ground coffee. He looked at the grounds. How do you make coffee? Surely it must be the same as tea. So he boiled some water, put a teaspoon of the grounds, better make it a little stronger, put in another teaspoon, added the boiling water and stirred. The aroma of coffee flooded the room. It was certainly black as he took a sip, and bitter as he grimaced. But it was definitely giving him a buzz.

He had long ago emptied the biscuit tin, leaving a few shillings so it could be replenished. What to do. He went back to his desk, He had already taken down his diplomas and packed his personal stuff in his briefcase. He picked up a pencil, started to doodle on his yellow pad and became the nightmare of every solicitor, a client who started to second guess himself.

Maybe I should just tell them that on drunken second thought I'm not going to do it, the wedding is off. Not my problem. Good luck to you all. He printed '1. NO' on the pad. That would put the cat amongst the pigeons. But could he then stay in Downton? He added the word 'stay' so the pad now read '1. NO / STAY' then he drew a line through it. No way they would stand for that, they would make his and mother's lives hell.

He printed '2. NO / GO'. He could start over somewhere else. Maybe one of the Dominions, he didn't know how for he would have to go to escape the wrath of Grantham. But he might be able to acquire a loving and faithful wife and raise a brood of blue eyed blond children. Life could still be good.

Next he printed '3. YES / GO' which is what he had already told them he would do. Most of the time the first decision was the correct one, second guesses were not that great.

Lastly he printed the option he was most afraid of: '4. YES / STAY'. It was possible for her and him to be married and lead separate lives. From the stories Cousin Violet told it appeared to happen all the time in upper class circles. Separate bedrooms, separate interests. He imagined Robert could help him get elected as an M.P. and then he could spend time in London while she was in Downton and vice versa. With a little coordination they need not even have be together in the same house, let alone room, more than a few times a year. And between nannies, governesses and boarding schools he would not have to see the boy anymore often. With a heir already produced there would be no need for them to have relations. She could have her affairs, hopefully she had learned her lesson and would take care not to be fruitful, and he could keep a mistress. In London, Downton was too small to keep something like that a secret. He stared at the page. What a sad existence. He wanted a wife who was his best friend, his only lover (and he hers), his true partner.

He sighed. It would only work if... if she would love him. The events of the last few days had flushed away any delusions that his puppy love for her, for that was all that it had been, may have had for him. He had known her for about seven months, call it two hundred days, and during that time had she done anything which would indicate she had any regard, special or otherwise, for him? At first she had openly scorned him; sea monster indeed! She had gradually deigned to speak to him, once she knew he respected her opinions, of literature, politics or the headline du jour. But they had never discussed anything of a personal nature. He had never touched her beyond an initial handshake, let alone dared to kiss her. He regretted having gone back to Manchester for Christmas and thus missing the Servant's Ball. He could have danced her off her feet, he thought he was probably a better dancer than she would have anticipated.

Looking back she had always been entirely proper and correct in her dealings with him. Even the barbs she hurled at him were within the brittle ambit of upper class discourse. She had never once said, hinted or implied that he was anything more an acquaintance with whom she could have a pleasant conversation until someone more exciting came along. And that was the rub. Leaving aside the impropriety of it all, Pamuk had, in one day, managed to do infinitely more with her than he had managed to in two hundred days. While he might not necessarily bore her, he certainly did not excite her. There was no real hope of her loving him, at best she might develop a tolerant fondness for her. He could be her Labrador, but never her lover. He could not bear the thought. He drew a line through '4. YES / STAY'

He looked at '2. NO / GO' again. The best choice for him. Not for her. If her family was correct she would be ruined for life. Maybe her sisters as well. He could not do that to her or them. Unrequited though it may have been, he had loved her once. He drew a line through '2. NO / GO' .

He drew a circle around '3. YES / GO'. His first decision had been the right one. A good settlement gives each side something. She would get whatever cover a wedding band and his actions would provide; he would get a chance to find happiness elsewhere. Not perfect, but settlements never were.

He drained the cup of now cold coffee. Coldness did not improve the taste. He put on his coat, took a last look at the office and his legal career, picked up his diplomas and briefcase, and left.


	3. All I Really Want To Do

_A/N: Sussan Deyhim's version of the title song from the Chimes of Freedom album is recommended._

All I Really Want To Do

Wednesday, April 9, 1913

Patrick's death had freed Mary.

Since she had turned fourteen she knew where her duty lay and she had acquiesced. But her duty had lapsed with Patrick's death.

She had made her declaration of independence to her father when he had tried to steer towards marriage with Matthew shortly after Matthew had come into their lives. She had told him she would never marry someone if she was told to. And her father had seemed to accept it.

She had a list of qualities she wanted in a husband. She had never written it down; that was something Edith would do, probably with 'staid, dull and boring' heading the list; but she carried it with her always.

Handsome, but not pretty. Taller than her, short men, no matter how otherwise perfect, need not apply. Graceful. Athletic, but not to the point of showing off. Clean, well groomed, well tailored. Older than her, but by no more than ten years.

Rich, she did see any reason why she should do without. Titled, or at least in line to be titled, she wanted to be the 'Something of Someplace"; she did not want to always rely upon her courtesy title from her father.

Intelligent, well read; someone she would be able to talk with, not just at, and definitely no grunters. Witty with a sense of humour. He must be able to make her laugh and stand up to being mocked by her.

Strong, he must be able to protect her and her children when need be. And be loyal to them to the end.

Absolutely no mistresses. She did not care if that was how the things were done; she would give him all the loving he would need. And no separate bedrooms. She wanted the love that her parents had.

Well mannered and chivalrous. Presentable in court.

No vices. None. Not gambling, not drink, not wenches. None. Non-negotiable.

Respect for her as an equal. She did not care what the law or custom said. She was going to be an equal partner.

Kind and considerate towards her, her children, her family, her friends, her servants, the world at large. Not soft, not weak; firm but fair.

A friend. A true friend.

And other qualities that she would remember when the time came to consider a candidate, either to say that is nice, I like that, or no, that disqualifies you.

She knew that her grandmother would snort to think that a paragon who had all these qualities would even exist. And she should have enjoyed the quest for such a grail of masculinity.

But...but almost the first time she should have a judged a man against her list she had thrown it all away and made the biggest, stupidest, most reckless mistake of her life.

And so it transpired that she was marrying someone because she had been told to.

And it could have been to someone worse. If she set aside her perfectly understandable antipathy towards the interloper who had stolen her birthrate he did not do that bad according to her list. Matthew was handsome and, when those blue eyes sparkled as he smiled, something more. He was taller, the right age. Well groomed, ignoring the odd razor burn. Could be better tailored but money could easily fix that. With her settlement he was well off, when he inherited he would be very wealthy indeed.

He did not have a title but someday he would be Earl and she Countess. She wondered if as heir he was entitled to a courtesy title, 'Lord Crawley' had a nice ring to it. Who could she ask? The College of Heralds perhaps?

She liked, no, be honest, she loved talking to him. He was intelligent and well read. Quick and witty, he had turned that crack she had made about Perseus right back on her. Married to him she could look forward to a lifetime of repartee right out of one of Shaw's plays. And he respected her opinions, he might not agree with them, but he had never once discounted them because she was a woman. She felt sure he would treat her as his equal and would even be surprised if anyone ever suggested he do otherwise.

With the one major exception, he was kind and considerate. He would be good towards their children, even, and she grazed her hand across her bump, this cuckoo child of his. She knew this because of her grandmother's Siamese cat. Turandot was an old, cranky, vocal cat who hated one and all except for Grannie and her cook and was known, and feared, for clawing and biting visitors to the Dower House without warning or quarter. When Grannie entertained the cat was exiled to the kitchen. Back in January, before anyone, even Mary, knew of her condition, Grannie had invited the young ones, as she put it, Mary and her sisters and Matthew, to tea. This was Matthew's first time in the Dower House and Mary remembered that he had been quite nervous. The five of them had been sitting in the drawing room when the unmistakable yawling of Turandot was heard, advancing on them. The girls all froze. They dared not say anything, or even look at the cat, for fear of setting it off. The cat came in and surveyed the crowd. Matthew gave it a smile and then made a funny little noise with his lips. The cat cocked its head at him and then jumped on his lap. Matthew started scratching the cat behind its ears and the cat laid down and started purring. Mary had thought that the cat couldn't purr, she had never ever seen it content. Violet and her granddaughters had let out their breaths. Matthew smiled and said something inane like 'what a sweet cat, what's its name?' And they had all stared at him. That violent old reprobate of a cat had convinced Mary that Matthew was kind and considerate to the core.

But there was the one major exception that troubled her. On the day of their betrothal, what else could it be called, she had been shocked and appalled at the coarse and cruel words Matthew had hurled at her. Certainly Matthew had received a nasty surprise, he had been provoked, but still, Evelyn Napier would never had used such language. And then it struck her. Evelyn would never have agreed to marry her. He would have murmured diplomatic platitudes, offered her any help she might need, short of actual aid, wished her well and then left. At flank speed. She could think of no young man of her set who, had the proposition had been made to him, would have agreed to marry her. Matthew, for all that, had.

He was not perfect. She knew now that he had a dark and stormy side but it had only been revealed in the most extraordinary of circumstances. If she could steer him away from any similar circumstances, and it was hard to see anything that dramatic ever happening to them in the future, she need never see that dark side again. And she felt that the drunken binge he had gone on; Molesley had told Anna all about it, who had told her, she had laughed at the buckets of water; was part and parcel of his reaction to the shock of it all. She did not think he was a permanent drunk. Nor did she think he would ever be violent towards her. He might have wanted to fight her father, but that was just the young stag wanting to take on the old stag, she had never sensed he would hurt her. Even when the spittle was spraying towards her she felt that if only she had had the presence of mind to have touched his cheek his words would have turned to tears and he would have ended up in her arms.

She had a lot to work with. He was malleable. He was a quick learner, he never made the same mistake of etiquette twice. They had been growing together as friends before... her hand strayed to her middle. Surely this was just a bump in the road. She could make this marriage a success. They might even grow to love each other. Tonight, after dinner, she would convince him to stay.

-0-

Mary could hardly contain herself. How would Matthew act when he saw her? What would he say? Was his anger gone, or was it just on simmer? Would he listen to her? She wished she had a dress that fit properly. Between the bump, and her refusal to wear a corset, she was not going to deform the baby with one of those, she had been reduced to inserting side panels in one of her more flowing gowns. O'Brien had done a yeoman job getting the dress ready in time, although Mary's gratitude had been tempered by O'Briens' continuous mutterings of protest.

Carson announced Mrs. Crawley. And that was all. Isobel came in, looking rather subdued. Mary looked around her. There was no one else there.

Mary was about to ask after Matthew when Isobel advised "Matthew sends his regrets. He has to work in Ripon tonight to finalize his files"

Dinner was subdued and silent. After it came to its quick conclusion Cora asked "Robert would you please entertain Edith and Sybil tonight". Edith started to protest but Cora pointed at her "Not one word out of you young lady!" and Edith sat back down sulking.

After Mary and the older ladies had left Robert sighed. He look at the decanter of port and the box of cigars on the sideboard and then at his two youngest. "Well off to bed you two" Edith started to protest but he glared her into silence. They left in ill humour and he poured himself a glass. He was disappointed for he too had wanted to speak to Matthew. They needed to clear the air.

-0-

Violet, Cora and Isobel sat in the drawing room with their glasses of sherry and watched Mary pace back and forth.

Finally Violet snapped "Out with it girl, we do not have all night"

Mary stopped and blinked at her. "I... I want a real marriage"

"Well you are really getting married on Friday unless there is some sort of elaborate charade going on" Violet gave Cora a suspicious look.

"I mean ... I don't want one of those aristocratic marriages where they lead separate lives."

"Goodness, half the great houses of England would fall if the husband and wife had to exchange more than a handful of words at a time. They get together once or twice a year and do the necessary, at least until a heir and a spare have been produced. Then the men can get on with administrating the Empire and the ladies, well you know what ladies do."

But I want more"

"It seems to me that doing what you wanted to do instead of observing the proprieties is what got you into this mess in the first place. You had better concentrate on making the best of what you have" Violet turned to Isobel "Is the groom still intent on leaving on the honeymoon on his own?"

Isobel had been hoping to just down her sherry and make a quick escape but no it was not to be. "As far as I know"

Violet turned back to Mary. "You had better catch your fish before you decide how you are going to cook it." Then to Isobel "He's your son. Is he gone for good?"

Isobel took a long time to reply. "I don't know. I have never seen him this angry. And he can be very stubborn. There was one time when he was in university we had a row over something, I can't even remember what it was now, and I didn't hear from him until that Christmas, and whatever it was over, it wasn't as big as this. I think he may be gone for quite a while."

Violet delivered her judgement. "He'll wait until the baby is born to decide whether to come back. If it is a girl we will see him at Christmas and "looking at Mary "you can probably induce him to stay. If it is a boy he might never come back". Seeing Mary's shocked expression, "Men are funny about their sons. Even with their own behind the love there is always a fear of being usurped; with a step son it's worse and with this one" looking at Mary's bump "it would be worse yet"

Mary appealed to her mother "That can't be right"

Cora could not look Mary in the eye. "It might be. Men can be terrible cavemen at times"

"So I should just give up"

Violet rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying that. I'm just pointing out how tough it might be. You've already paid your money, you might as well take your chance."

Mary sighed. "So how can I get him to come back?"


	4. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

_A/N: I prefer Bob Dylan's version of the chapter title song. For a truly over the top, five hankie, version you cannot beat Ke$ha's. _

_As always the incidental music for this storey is the version by the Kronos Quartet._

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

Friday, April 11, 1913

The day was cold, damp and dreary which was an exact fit for Matthew's mood. He carried his suitcase to the train station and purchased one ticket. Yes, he had to reassure the ticket agent, just one ticket, left his suitcase on the baggage cart and then walked towards the church. It was five to ten.

Murray was waiting for Matthew at the door.

"You have something for me?" he asked the older solicitor.

"Yes, but not until after the ceremony."

"Of course, but I would like to confirm that you have it."

Murray took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and showed Matthew the bank draft inside.

"Lord Grantham asked me to give you this" and he handed Matthew a plain gold wedding band.

Matthew nodded at him and then walked up the aisle towards the altar. The only people on the groom's side were his mother, Mrs. Bird and Molesly. In the front pew on the bride's side sat Cora, Violet, Edith and Sybil. Carson and Anna sat one pew back. As Matthew walked by them he was careful not to catch their eyes.

Travis greeted Matthew at the altar and then asked "Where's your best man?"

"I don't have one. It's not a requirement is it?"

"No, but there must be two witnesses."

"Molesly and Anna can be the witnesses." Matthew turned around and called them to the front. They stood there embarrassed. Matthew turned back to the Vicar. " And remember keep it to the bare minimum". He stared at the altar waiting for his bride. Who was late.

-0-

Mary sat in the auto with her father who had not yet told Branson to proceed.

They watched the rain come down for awhile and then Robert said "It's not too late to call it off. We can drive right by the church and take you to Liverpool and put you on a boat to New York."

She patted his hand. "And would Edith and Sybil be coming with me as well?"

"Oh"

"Exactly, it's not just my honour I have besmirched. No I go to my fate willingly"

Robert tried another tack. "I wanted a good man for you. I thought Matthew was a good man but after the way he behaved, the language he used... I am afraid of him for you."

Mary took up her father's hand and squeezed it. "I am not afraid of him at all. He may shout at me but he will never strike me. Of that I am certain. Isobel told us that as a boy he had quite a temper and that he got in a lot of fights at school. But always with bullies, she swears that she never heard of him hitting anyone weaker then him. I believe her. I don't fear him for myself but I was afraid he was going to pop you in the nose.." She smiled at him.

"But I'm not a bully" her father protested "I didn't threaten him, I just asked him..."

"No" Mary corrected him "You made it matter of honour, you threatened him with the biggest stick of all"

Robert sighed. What could he say, she was right, he had bullied Matthew. He owed him an apology.

"Matthew is a good man" Mary reassured her father "Not perfect, but who is? Certainly not me. When he comes back you will see what an excellent match we make."

"You are convinced he will come back?"

"I am."

"Then you have my blessing. Well I guess we had better get on." and he reached forward, knocked on the partition and motioned for Branson to start.

On the way Mary thought of all the advice the older ladies had given her. Don't feed his anger. Be demure. Don't ask him to stay. Be understanding. And whatever you do, don't, and all three of them, each in their own way, emphasized, don't, make one of your witty, but cutting, remarks. As her grandmother put it, you can fillet him once you have him safely landed. This is not the time. Mary was sure she going to gnaw her tongue clear through before this thing was over.

-0-

Matthew heard the doors to the church open. He did not look around, he could follow Mary and Robert's progress up the aisle in the Vicar's eyes. He sensed Mary stand beside him, still he did not look at her.

"Good morning Matthew"

He looked at her. He didn't know what he expected to see. Probably her looking as haggard as he felt. But she didn't. She might not have been radiant but she looked happy. The smile she was giving him made him want to smile in return; he tried hard not to, although he could feel the corners of his mouth twitch. She was wearing some sort of off white dress, it looked like something she would have worn to a summer garden party. She had a small bouquet of hot house flowers, orchids maybe, he wasn't sure. She was beautiful. He felt an ache in his chest.

"Good morning Mary" he managed to stammer "How are you?"

"I feel little faint this morning. Don't be alarmed if I lean on you during the service"

"Would you like to sit down? Maybe rest awhile before..."

"No thank you, I'll be OK"

He stared at her. She looked down. Travis gave a discrete cough. They both looked at him. Matthew nodded.

Travis started the service. He announced that the reading of the banns had been dispensed with by the Bishop. He then asked the congregation if there was any cause why these people should not marry. Matthew thought that more than half of the congregants were considering raising an objection; he wished someone would, but in the end no one did.

Then Travis began "Dearly beloved ..."

The Vicar's drone almost lulled Matthew into a trance. He snorted, he thought to himself, at the reference to 'procreation of children' but Mary must has heard because she gave a small tsk and Travis glared at him.

Travis asked: "Matthew, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Matthew thought, what six or seven questions and he could at most only answer two honestly. He answered in a clear, loud voice "I will"

"Mary, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will" Mary answered in a softer, but as clear, a voice.

Matthew wondered how honest her answers were to those questions.

And then they had to hold hands and give their troth to each other. Matthew just stuck out his right hand; Mary gripped it back so hard Matthew thought she was going to break it.

"I, Matthew, take thee Mary, to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Matthew could feel Mary start to sway as if she were going to faint, and so, without any conscious thought of doing so, he put his left arm around Mary and held her close to him. She gave him a grateful smile.

"I, Mary take thee Matthew, to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

"Are you going to be OK" he whispered to her.

"Yes" she whispered back.

"Good. I'm going to let go" and he did.

Then Matthew put the ring on Mary's finger saying _"_With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Then Travis joined their hands together and proclaimed: "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. For as much as Matthew and Mary have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

"You may kiss the bride" Travis said.

Matthew bent down intending to give her the briefest of kisses, the first and only time he would ever kiss her he thought with a pang, but Mary surprised him and gave him a full kiss.

Then they had to kneel, side by side and listen to interminable prayers and blessings. Matthew could feel Mary leaning on him, the presence of her filled his senses.

Finally it was time to sign the registers. Travis lead them to an alcove behind the altar to do so, Molesly and Anna following as the witnesses. Mary seemed to stumble and Matthew again put his arm around her to steady her, feeling her swollen belly in the process, another first and only he thought. Mary sat at the small table and they all signed the books where required.

"I would like to speak to Matthew" Mary announced.

Anna ushered a compliant Molesly and a somewhat reluctant Travis out of the alcove leaving Matthew and Mary alone.

Mary stood up and faced Matthew. This is it she thought let him go but make him want to come back. She held out her hands so that he had no choice but to take them.

"You must despise me" she started.

Matthew closed his eyes and squeezed her hands. "I could never despise you. I just wish I were a more .. more honourable man. When I think of the things I said to you I cringe. You deserve better...someone who could rise beyond..." He pulled her closer and touched his forehead to hers "I am so sorry".

Mary could not help herself, it must be the baby, but she felt herself tearing up. She had a little speech of apology to make to him about how sorry she was that he had been trapped like this but that she knew she, they could make it work., and here he goes and preempts her. It seemed like he was always apologizing to her for one thing or the other. It must be a middle class thing.

Matthew pulled back. He could see Mary was crying and he gave her his handkerchief. He felt his own eyes water as well.

"I know you have to go" she said to him "and I'm not going to ask you to stay but..." she blew her nose "I want to say to you that I know that when I, and the baby, really need you, you are going to come back for us. And we will be waiting for you."

"Oh Mary, don't..."

"Before you leave I want one real kiss to remember you by" and she put her arms around his neck.

The ladies had told her the kiss was the key. Put everything you have into that kiss because it is the seed that will grow into his longing to return. Make it the best kiss you've ever given. Thankfully they hadn't given her any tips on how to actually do it.

Matthew considered her request. A last kiss. He decided to pour all his regret for his lost love into it. He bend down to her...

A kiss where the parties are thinking about what they are doing is a mechanical thing, before it is even over, they are thinking about what's for dinner that night. This kiss started that way, but shortly after their tongues touched Matthew and Mary both lost conscious thought as they joined together in a flow of taste and touch and scent. Time slowed, eddied and then finally found the main channel again.

When finally they broke apart they leaned on each other. For a brief moment Matthew thought maybe, with some luck and a lot of give and some take, maybe, maybe we can make a go of it; but then he felt her baby bump between them and realized no, it could not be.

When Matthew got his breath back he said "I wish we had done that last November 30th."He rubbed her back. "You know it wouldn't work, the boy would always be between us. It's better this way." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'm going to leave now. It'll be OK, you'll ride out the storm, you're a storm braver. I'll arrange things so you and the baby are taken care of. Stay here, they'll come for you." He kissed her a last time on the forehead and squeezed her shoulder. "Fare thee well" and he left.

She watched him leave. She had to sit down again. She hoped the ladies were right. Let him fly away and he will fly back. Left to her own devices she would have grabbed him by the ears and given him an earful, in each ear. Too bad about how you got dragged into this, but you're in it now, so better make the best of it. Quit blubbering, man up. She knew her way would have bred resentment so she had agreed to their way. So now she had to wait. And how she hated waiting. She wanted him now. She wanted him in bed with her tonight. She was afraid that kiss had backfired on her, she could already feel a longing for him growing in her.

As he came out of the alcove alone the congregation gave Matthew a shocked look. As he walked by Mary's family he heard them bolt for the alcove. He nodded at his mother and she gave him a wan smile. He stopped at the end of the aisle and Murray gave him the bank draft. He left the church and turned towards the train station; he had a train to catch.

As he walked the taste of her kiss lingered in his mouth.


	5. No Time to Think

_A/N: The best version of the chapter title song is by The Belle Brigade. I acknowledge that the song is longer than the chapter but it cannot be helped. It is necessary to complete the set up for things that follow._

No Time to Think

Monday, April 14, 1913

Matthew spent the weekend with his friend Johnnie Walker contemplating the dilemma of the Lady, or the Tiger?

_Flung into the arena by cruel Fate. Faced with two doors; behind one, a Lady; behind the other, a Tiger. Forced to choose one door, or the other. _

_Choose the door with the Lady and live happily ever after. The baby is a beautiful little girl who looks just like her mother. Mary is a loving wife. They have a string of blond blue eyed sons. The House of Grantham flourishes._

_Choose the door with the Tiger and die a lingering painful death. The baby is a mean little boy who takes after his father. His real father. He is an only child who hates Matthew, his putative father. Mary is cold and distant, taunting Matthew with lover after lover. The House of Grantham falls._

_Matthew hates the whole House of Grantham, from Robert, Cora and Violet on down to Mary. Especially Mary. He hates them all. He hates them for making him choose. _

_The crowd screams: Choose! Choose!._

_Fate's capricious daughter, Lady Luck, knows what stands behind each door. She gestures towards the rightmost door._

_Matthew starts towards that door but then remembers there is a third option. To cheat. To not choose. __To run. He stoops and grabs a handful of sand from the floor of the arena and flings it in the eyes of the guards. And then he runs and runs away and away and ..._

Matthew stared at the cracked plaster of the ceiling of his railway hotel room. He had vows to make.

First of all this was the last time he was getting drunk. Consecutive weekends were too much. From now on he would run from his problems, not try to drown them.

And secondly he would honour his marriage vows the best he could. But in absentia. He was not going back to Downton.

He got up. His head was splitting. He dug a headache powder out of his shaving kit. It was time to face reality once again.

After a breakfast of strong black tea and dry toast, he could not stomach anything else, he went to see his banker. Who was very happy to see him, happier than any banker had ever been to see him in the past. The banker was somewhat less happy with the way Matthew instructed him to invest the marriage settlement, in fact he tried rather hard to dissuade Matthew, but when it was pointed out that were other, more accommodating, bankers in the vicinity, he gave in with good grace on the principle that the customer is always right.

After slightly more food at lunch then he had had for breakfast Matthew pondered his next step. How far was he prepared to run? He had no idea how to go about joining the French Foreign Legion. It was probably not as simple as showing up at the French embassy in London and enlisting. On his way to the Public Library to do some research he walked past a British Army recruiting office; stopped and went back. He looked at the poster and considered his options. Was it not better to endure the brutal deprivation of a private soldier's life in a language he understood? He did not enter the recruiting office right then, there were certain matters to be dealt with.

-0-

"Discovered to be the missing heir to an Earldom and a great fortune, married to the oldest daughter and then immediately banished" Bert Hastings, Matthew's best friend and fellow solicitor, shook his head at Matthew "all in under a year. The Brothers Grimm are going to have to rewrite their fairy tales, you've turned them all on their heads." Matthew had not told Bert the details and Bert knew his friend well enough not to pry.

Matthew shrugged. "So will you do it?"

"Yes, I will have your will ready for you to sign tomorrow, shall we say at eleven? Then I will take you out to lunch. And I will serve as your mail drop. Are you sure you don't want your mother" and here Bert paused and gave Matthew a significant look "or your wife to know where you are?"

"Quite sure"

"Then you better give me a pound as a retainer so I can plead confidentiality if either of them demand to know your whereabouts."

Matthew smiled his thanks as he took out a pound note and gave it to Bert.

After leaving Bert's office, having refused an invitation to dinner, he knew Bert's wife would not be shy about asking the questions that Bert had been too discrete to ask, Matthew went to a second hand clothing store and bought the worn out suit and shoes of a clerk.

Tuesday, April 15, 1913

After breakfast Matthew checked out of his hotel, went to the post office, mailed his will and the investment documents to his mother by first class mail, telling her how to write to him care of Bert, and sent his suitcase to her by parcel post.

Then he went to Bert's office and signed his will leaving all his worldly possessions to his mother, his wife having sufficient assets of her own to meet her needs. Bert then took him to lunch. Although Bert looked askance at Matthew's shabby clerk's suit he said nothing.

After a sumptuous lunch, probably the best meal he would have for the foreseeable future, Matthew bid farewell to Bert, walked to the recruiting office and took the King's shilling.

_A/N: 'The Lady, or the Tiger?' is a famous short storey by Frank R. Stockton which would have been well known to Matthew. It is well worth reading. If you were the king's daughter which door would you have directed your lover to: that of the Lady, or the Tiger? _


	6. You're Going to Make Me Lonesome

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Miley Cyrus is recommended._

You're Going to Make Me Lonesome

Tuesday, May 20, 1913

Mary trudged to the Dower House. Her grandmother had insisted that she come to tea. Two of Grannie's oldest friends, Lady Worplesdon and Lady Yaxley, were visiting and they 'had expressed a particular interest in seeing Lady Mary'. She bet they had; there were no more judgemental ladies in the Empire, excepting grannie of course. And not judgemental in the sense of carefully weighing all the evidence and then making a fair and impartial decision; no, this was judgemental as in 'hang them all, God knows his own'.

She had tried to beg off but her grannie had been firm 'It will not be as bad as you think, your man's plan is working to perfection although it is a pity he had to pull the temple down.' When Mary had asked what man and what plan Violet had just patted her hand and said that she would work it out in good time.

Oh well, best get the worst out of the way early. If she could weather the Ladies' snide and barbed comments she could handle anything London society threw at her. And anyway she had more important things to worry about.

Such as her lack of the vaunted maternal instinct. She had supposed, had been lead to believe by her mother, her grannie and her mother in law, that by now in her pregnancy she would be cherishing this child growing inside her; but all she felt was imposition. She ate what she was told to eat; did what she was to told to do. She had been tasked with rolling a rock up a steep hill and so she did. But she was afraid that when she got to the top of the hill she would walk away from the rock without a backwards glance. And the child would be raised by a succession of nannies and governesses until he, for she was convinced it was a boy, could be sent away to school. And the only contact he would have with his cold and distant mother would be an obligatory kiss before bedtime. And as for his father, nothing.

Nothing, unless she could get Matthew to come back. Matthew was not the boy's father but she felt, she knew, that he really was. And what a marvellous father he would be. There would be romping and playing and laughing. She had to get him back. He would make her love the child.

She did not love Matthew. How could she? But...but when she dreamed of being loved she thought of how he had held her at the wedding, rubbed her back and kissed her. Of that other so-called act of love, the one which had put her into this position, she remembered no more than what she remembered about the time she had been thrown off Diamond when he had refused a jump and she had been knocked out. In both cases she could remember the build up and then the terrible hurt, but nothing of the act itself. But of Matthew she could remember every sensation as his fingers dug into her side as he saved her from collapsing, the gentle caress of his warm hands on her shoulders and the softness of his lips as they touched her. What a marvellous lover he would be. There would be romping and playing and laughing. She had to get him back. She would make him love her. And maybe she could love him.

They still could all live happily ever after. She had to get him back.

Mary had been so engrossed in her thoughts that she had almost walked past the gate to the Dower House but no such luck. She walked up to the front door, took a deep breath and knocked. Into the lioness' den.

Grannie had predicted it would not be that bad. At first it wasn't. The moment the ladies saw her they starting clucking over her. All she had to do was act demure and murmur thanks for their advice regarding the management of her pregnancy.

The ladies, she knew their names, she just didn't know which lady belonged to which name, were sisters; she did not think twins, although they may as well have been, such was the similarity between them. They finished each others' sentences so seamlessly it was if there were one mind directing one voice.

They also tended to meander so as they prattled on that Mary almost missed the pronouncement of their sentence upon her.

"Your father was right to banish that rogue.." said the sister on the right

The sister on the left continued "... after he abused you and your family's hospitality..."

"...plucked out of the gutter and this...

"... is how he repays you...

"... cads like that should be gelded.."

"... with a dull spoon..." and here the sister on the left waved her teaspoon in Mary's face.

".. you are better off without him...". Here they both reached over and patted her knees.

Pity. She was sentenced to pity. She could show her face in London. The mother elephants would circle around her. But for the rest of her life she would be that pitiful Crawley girl. What a pity.

Mary wanted to scream. She wanted to appeal the sentence. Scorn me! Scorn she could handle. Scorn she could defy. Scorn at least acknowledged she had pride, sinful pride, but pride all the same. But how could she defy pity? It would envelope her in its warm and fuzzy arms and smother her resistance until she gave in and accepted her status as a grass widow.

This was worse than Grannie had predicted. She needed Matthew by her side; try to pity her then. She opened her mouth to rebut the ladies but closed as it as she saw her grandmother shake her head at her.

Violet stood up. "Ladies I wish we could keep Mary all day but I am afraid she must go for her afternoon nap. I am sure that you will agree that it is very important in her condition that she get her rest."

Mary got up and thanked the ladies for their good advice and had in turn to endure their patting of her bump, either as a blessing or maybe for luck, she was not sure. Her grandmother then walked her to the door.

When Mary started to remonstrate Violet raised her finger to her lips.

"Hush, one battle at a time. Your honour is saved."

"But at the expense of Matthew's" Mary hissed back.

"Which is what was he wanted"

"What do you mean?"

"You still haven't worked it out, have you? Look, he took the blame. I don't know how intentional it was but he did. He made such a big splash people are still gossiping about it. About how after a shotgun wedding your father banished the cad. After he's been gone a decent interval he can come back and all will be forgiven. You know there's a reason why it's called the Parable of the Prodigal Son and not the Prodigal Daughter. And don't forget what the alternate stories would have been. If there had been a wedding and he had stayed people would be saying you cynically seduced him and trapped him with a child all so you could get around the entail. If there had been no wedding those two biddies in there would be counting back nine months from the date of birth. And what would they discover – a Turkish diplomat dead in suspicious circumstances. Hmm... I wonder what they could make of that. You best be thankful for what Matthew has done for you."

"But I want him..."

"That's the next battle, or more likely a siege. We will talk later, now go home and have your nap, I have to get back in there before they pocket all of my silverware."


	7. Abandoned Love

_A/N: the version of the chapter title song by Paul Rodgers and Nil Lofsgren is recommended. For those of you who hang around and read the credits after a movie ends Reader mail is answered after the end of this very short chapter._

Abandoned Love

July 18, 1913

"Private Crawley reporting as ordered Sir!" Matthew held his salute until the major returned it and then snapped back to rigid attention. He had no idea why he had been summoned into the presence of so august a personage. He wasn't aware of any outstanding disciplinary issues.

"At ease"

Matthew assumed a rigid at ease stance and stared at the line where the opposite wall met the ceiling.

"I have been reviewing your training records Crawley" the major said in a conversational tone "You have done quite well. Good physical shape. An excellent shot. Pick up things quickly. Mix well with the other troops. No obvious vices. There's just one thing about you that troubles me. Your instructors were quite surprised with how intelligent you proved to be considering that the test you wrote when you enlisted had you pegged on the slow side of dull. Any idea why that would be?" the major gave Matthew a sharp look, which reminded Matthew of the looks the Dowager Countess had given him.

Matthew had heard that the army did not want soldiers who were too smart so he had purposely blown several of the answers on the test. Too many it seems. "No, Sir"

"Well we are going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you were badly hung over when you took that test. Now my clerk is gong to administer the test to you again and you are ordered to do your absolute best on it. You understand what an order is?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good. Be back here at 2:00 o'clock to review the results."

"Yes sir!"

-0-

"Sit down"

Matthew sat at rigid attention. The major had Matthew's test in front of him. Matthew could not see what the result was.

The major continued. "The results of your new test confirm the conclusions of your instructors. You are an intelligent man. In recognition of that intelligence I am going to invite you to speak freely. Oh and drop the manc accent, you don't quite have it right which leads me to believe you are a gentleman." He looked at Matthew.

"I'm middle class sir"

"And drop the 'sirs' for the duration of this interview"

"Yes s.., Yes."

"On your application you said you had worked in an office, what sort of an office?'

"A law office"

"As?"

"A solicitor"

"So what education do you have?"

"An Arts degree from Oxford"

"In?"

"Modern History"

"So if not a gentleman, upper middle class. Close enough for government work. Why did you enlist? And do not tell me an overwhelming love of King and country came over you. In my experience gentlemen enlist because they are running away from the law, their creditors or a woman. Which is it?"

Matthew hesitated. A woman. Mary. She haunted every moment of his that the Army did not claim for its own. He finally answered. "The last"

"I do not want to know the details. Is it over?"

Over? When he breathed his last it would be over. "Yes"

"Good. Now we can get to the point of this whole exercise. You know that war with Germany is inevitable?"

"No?"

"Come now, you don't think our respective governments have been building all those dreadnoughts these past few years just to let them rust away in harbour. No, there will be some casus belli, the Royal Navy and the Imperial Navy will pound away at each other and then the army will have to go in and actually win the thing. Just like with Napoleon; Nelson and the Navy get all the glory, but it was Wellington and the Army that beat him, ten years after Trafalgar. And that's where you come in. When the war comes there is going to be a massive expansion of the Army and we going to need officers accordingly. You are the kind of candidate we are looking for. So you are ordered to report to the Officer Training Depot on Salisbury Plain on August 5th. You are granted leave until then. Go home, see your mother"

"But I don't want ..."

The major held up his hand "Crawley haven't you learned in the last three months that the Army doesn't care what you want? Now get out of here and enjoy your leave."

Matthew stood up, snapped to attention and saluted "Yes sir"

A_/N: My own worst critic tells me I should have made it clear from the start of this storey that it is definitely AU. In additional to the AU elements you have already come across there is no letter to the Turkish ambassador nor is there a Vera Bates, murdered or otherwise. This is not a storey of blackmail. _

_And now to the Reader mail:_

_hess: Bert Hastings plays a minor role in this storey. He will play a prominent role in 'The Curse of the Broken Entail' coming to a fanfiction site near you at Christmas time._

_Audrey C: A grass widow is a woman whose husband is away for extended periods of time (eg. on military service). Please don't tell Mary that Matthew has joined the army. A major plot point depends on her not knowing for awhile._

_Lady Etiquette: I wish could I take credit for the names of the ladies but I cannot. They are Bertie Wooster's aunts. When they heard of Patrick's death they were going to push Bertie at Mary but news of her pregnancy put an end to that._

_adrielmoonstar / hess: The money / investments will be dealt with in a later chapter._

_Guest who wants Matthew to be crippled: I was trying to avoid the whole Lazarus rising from the wheelchair thing but I'll see what can been done. It will involve scrapping the tragic death scene on the last day of the war though._

_circa1910: We're just getting started with the sad and tragic._

_Kavan: Next chapter Matthew starts digging out of the deep hole he has dug for himself. I'm sorry for everything. Please come back._


	8. Love Sick

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Mariachi El Bronx is recommended._

Love Sick

Saturday, July 19, 1913

Matthew opened the door to Crawley House. He could not hear anyone. "Hello the house" he called.

Mrs. Bird shuffled out of the kitchen drying her hands on a towel. "Master Matthew! It's you."

He gave her a big hug. He had missed her and her good cooking.

She stared at him. "It is you isn't it?" He was no longer the slightly pudgy young man she had helped raise since he was a pup. This was a hard, lean man with close cropped hair and a moustache. He was tanned and weathered as if he worked outside all day. He was wearing a shabby worn out suit which was too baggy for his frame. And he was holding a cloth cap, a cloth cap for her Matthew, the best turned out solicitor in all England! What on earth had happened to him?

"Yes, it's me Mrs. Bird. Where's mother?"

"She with Mrs. Crawley at the hospital"

Matthew was confused "Mrs. Crawley?"

"You know, your wife"

"Lady Mary calls herself Mrs. Crawley?"

"She insists on it. It almost gave Carson a stroke. She gave him a proper dressing down when he wouldn't address her as such. When her parents took his side she threatened to move in here. It was the talk of the village for a week."

"She didn't did she? Move in here that is"

"No, but it was a close run thing, you know when she gets her back up she usually gets her way."

"Yes, I certainly do. So why is she in the hospital?"

"About a week ago she was here for tea with your mother and her grandmother.."

Matthew was incredulous "The Dowager Countess was here for tea?"

"Oh yes, the three of them take tea together almost every day, they take turns between here and the Dower House. Thick as thieves they are"

"What on earth do they talk about?"

A lot about you Mrs. Bird thought but did not say. It was not her place to let the fox know that the hunt was about. He would learn for himself in good time. "Oh woman type stuff mainly"

"So why is Lady.. er Mrs. Crawley in the hospital?"

"Your mother had been concerned about her for the past few weeks, she hadn't been putting on weight like she should, so when Mrs. Crawley shows up for tea right away your mother spots that something wasn't right. She, your wife that is, was burning up with a fever. Then Lady Grantham, the grandmother I mean, comes for tea and your mother and her bundle your wife into the auto and off to the hospital they went."

"And my ... I mean Mrs. Crawley has been at the hospital for the past week?"

"Yes"

"So why haven't they moved her to the Great House?"

"Your mother says it would be too dangerous to move her"

That bad? Matthew thought. "I think I'll go up there and see what's happening. Thanks for telling me."

-0-

Once through the entrance into the hospital Matthew was reluctant to go any further. His mother was probably with Mary and if she was so ill, most of her family was probably with her. He did not want to see any of the others, just his mother. While he was standing there twisting his cloth cap in his hands one of the nursing sisters saw him. She did not recognize him.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I would like to see Mrs. Crawley."

"Which one?"

"The matron"

"And whom may I say is looking for her?"

"Tell her..ah..a friend of Bert Hastings"

A few minutes later Matthew saw his mother coming down the hall with a puzzled look. When she saw it was Matthew her face lit up. She was going to run to him and give him a big hug but she saw that the nursing sister who had fetched her was standing there, plainly curious, so she motioned to Matthew.

"Please follow me"

She lead him down the hall into Dr. Clarkson's office and once inside she gave into her maternal instinct and hugged him. Then, as Mrs. Bird had done, she gave him a big once over.

"What have you done with yourself?" She turned over his hands "Why are your hands so rough? Are you working as a labourer?"

"I'm fine Mother. I'll tell you about it later. First tell me what's happening here."

She motioned for him sit down which he did. She remained standing. "It's not good. Mary is very ill, gravely ill." She paused. "It's unlikely she'll survive more than a few more days"

He stared at her. "Is it because I left..."

"No, it's some germ that is eating her up. She has septicaemia, a blood infection, we're not sure where she picked it up. She had cut herself cutting the stems off some flowers and that was probably it. We've run out of things to do to treat her. I wish there was some kind of miracle drug that would kill infections but there isn't. Maybe some day." She sighed.

He was silent for a long moment and then he asked "Is she ... does she know what's..."

"She's not in a coma yet, although that is probably next. She is running such a high fever it has affected her brain and driven her quite mad "

"Mad?"

"I am afraid so, she's not the prim and proper Lady Mary you remember, she's lost all her inhibitions, she's quite wild. If she weren't the Earl's daughter, she probably would have been in restraints by now."

Matthew was again silent, digesting this last point, and then he asked "and how is the ..."

"The baby is even worse off. We can only hear a very faint heartbeat and there is hardly any motion at all. It probably has the same infection she has. She is not strong enough to fight her own infection as well as the baby's."

"So the baby ..."

"Won't survive either" Then she remembered and stared at him "You didn't let her know you were coming did you?"

"No, no one knows I was coming. I didn't know myself until yesterday."

"Well she's been saying you were coming for the past few days."

"What?"

"She thinks the two of you are together; that you're at work in Ripon; and that you're coming to see her as soon as you get off work"

"Come on" she grabbed his arm to pull him out of the chair "It'll do her good to see you."

Matthew wrenched his arm out of her grasp. "Hold on. I don't want to see her or talk to her. It's none of my concern. ..."

Isobel slapped him. Matthew recoiled in shock, she hadn't swatted him since he was in short pants.

She shook her finger at him. "You spoiled, stubborn brat. I thought I raised you better than that. This is not about you. This is about that poor dying girl, your wife if you've forgotten, who is probably going to be dead in two days. So you are going to march in there and say, and do, whatever she wants you to say and do. If it helps her die happy, so be it! And if she lives, well you can jump off that bridge when you get to it. Come on" and she grabbed his arm again. This time he followed.

Matthew stopped in the entrance to Mary's room. Mary was sitting up in bed. Matthew had never seen anyone look so bad in his whole life. Her face was whiter than the sheets; her cheeks sunken; her deep brown eyes were rimmed with red, and bottomed with ugly bruised bags; her hair hung down, dull and lank. Her hands and arms, lying on top of the sheet were those of a skeleton. From her hips down, underneath the sheet, there were only more bones. Only her breasts, he noticed without any erotic interest, and her bump had any weight to them and even the bump looked too small for someone seven months along. She was panting softly.

Anna was sitting on Mary's right wiping her forehead with a cool cloth. Anna looked almost as worn out as Mary. Cora was sitting to the left, gazing at Mary.

Mathew tried to step backwards, to escape, but his mother blocked his way. The small noise of this attracted Mary's notice. She looked at the door, squinted and then held up her arms.

"Darling, I knew you would come"

Cora and Anna stared at Matthew, their mouths open. Isobel pushed Matthew so hard into the room he almost stumbled. Anna got up and moved out of his way. Isobel herded Anna and Cora out of the room and closed the door.

He sat on the side of the bed and hugged Mary. Her nightgown was soaking wet, he could feel the heat radiating off of her. He could feel every bone in her back, there was so little flesh there. She smelt of sweat and pee and fear. She was babbling in his ear.

"I missed you so... I knew you were coming... I'll being punished for being so bad... I'll be a good wife, I promise... I love you so .. Don't go away..I'm so afraid... I don't want to die.. The baby needs me "

Matthew bent forward and laid Mary down on her pillow. He broke her grip on him.

"Here let me look at you." She was crying and he took the cloth Anna had been using, dipped it in the bowl of ice water on the bed side table, and wiped her cheeks. "Don't cry. I'm here. Don't be afraid. You're going to get better." He wiped down her face, her neck, her arms and hands with the cool cloth and then he started again at her forehead.

"But the baby..." and she started crying again.

He pulled her back into a hug and started rocking back and forth as he rubbed her back. "You know he is ill. It may be his time to go to heaven" He could feel her nod.

"But why does he have to go now" she asked in a little girl voice.

He stroked her hair. He was glad he did not have to look her in the eyes. "He's sick and he's too little to fight it. It happens sometimes. He is going to a better place, he'll be one of the little children that Jesus suffers to be around him" By this time Matthew was tearing up as well.

"I should go with him and show him the way"

"No, no ... it's not your time. My father is there, he will meet his grandson. Don't worry they will be OK. " He kissed her on the side of her neck. "The next child we have will be our rainbow baby. You don't want to miss that one" He laid her back down.

"Promise?"

"Promise"

There was a glass of ice water with a slice of lemon floating in it. Matthew gave Mary a drink and then took a sip himself. The coolness was in contrast to the burning that was going to be his fate for all the lies he was telling today. He started to cool Mary down again. He touched his forehead to her forehead. The heat boiling out of it shocked him. "I want you to flow all of the darkness and hurt and pain out of you into me, now and tomorrow and forever, and I'll take it away and it'll never bother you again".

She seemed to accept this. "Will you stay with me?"

"Always"

-0-

Mary was not the perfect patient. She did not even pass the minimum threshold for being an acceptable patient. She was not shy about letting everyone know that she was hurting. As has beenalready said she was only tolerated as a patient because she was the daughter of. In fact Mary was perhaps the world's worst patient. Perhaps on Mars there is a worst patient but Mr. Wells has not written that book yet.

She would only allow Dr. Clarkson and Isobel to take her vitals, which presented scheduling difficulties but was doable. She would only eat Mrs. Patmore's cooking, which was inconvenient but again could be managed. And she had only allowed Anna to take care of her personal needs. When it was pointed out that this was placing a terrible burden on Anna, Mary refused the services of any additional maid, insisting that her husband would do his share.

A conference was convened in the hall outside Mary's room to consider this last demand. On one side were arrayed Dr. Clarkson, Robert and Matthew, on the other Isobel and Cora. The men did not understand how badly outnumbered they were. It did not help their cause that Mary was screaming and shrieking for Matthew to come to her.

Dr. Clarkson opened the innings, with Isobel bowling.

"It is unheard of..."

"... so were germs but now you wash your hands. You do wash your hands, don't you?"

"It is against hospital policy..."

"... perhaps you could show me the particular paragraph in the policy manual, that is if you can produce one?"

"It is improper for a man to see..."

"... you are aware they are married?" The wicket broke and the bails went flying.

The doctor retired to the pavilion with his duck's egg. As he retreated down the hall they could hear him muttering 'that if it had been any other patient...'

Cora turned to Isobel and asked " he does know we can hear him doesn't he?"

Isobel just shrugged and shook her head.

Robert elected to bowl with Cora batting.

"Just because they are married doesn't mean that a husband should have to ..."

"... we are married, are you saying you would not care for me if..."

Robert watched the ball soar for six. He turned to Matthew and whispered, hoping Cora did not hear, "Better you than me old chap. Good luck" He held his arm to Cora and she took it. They followed the doctor down the hall, Robert trying to dig himself out of the hole he found himself in, promising Cora that, if it ever came to pass, he would do whatever, anything, he could do to care for her.

Deserted by his allies, Matthew surrendered. He was anxious to go into Mary's room and comfort his frantic wife. He would do his share. It turned out his idea of what constituted his share and what his mother's idea of what it was varied considerably. He thought it mainly consisted on holding Mary's hand and cooling off those parts of her body not covered by her nightgown. His mother pointed out that with her fever, and given the summer heat, Mary needed two bed baths a day, one of which had to be done while Anna was off duty, getting much deserved rest.

So, under the direction of his mother, Matthew peeled off Mary's nightgown, and gave her a full bed bath. Matthew had dreamed many times of undressing Mary and now he was finding the truth in the warning to be careful of what you dreamt for. He soaped, rinsed, dried and powdered the obvious parts plus creases, crevices and orifices he knew of but had never fully appreciated the nature of. His father's medical texts, the plates which he devoured in his youth, had been a poor introduction to the reality of the surface anatomy of a woman. He had been worried that he would be embarrassed in a certain physiological way but the clinical way in which his mother directed him through the bed bath lead him instead to worry that he had been inoculated against any erotic feeling at all. Throughout Mary physically cooperated, although she made the occasional bawdy comment, much to Matthew's chagrin.

Later on, while Mary slept, Matthew made a last stand over the issue of bodily functions involving human waste.

"But, but, but..." he stammered.

"No buts. You're lucky she can get up and sit on a pot. Now as soon as she wakes up, get her to go and and then make sure you wipe her bottom."


	9. Just Like A Woman

_A/N: The versions of the chapter title song by Joe Cocker and Van Morrison are recommended._

Just Like A Woman

Wednesday, July 23, 1913

The care of Mary quickly fell into a routine.

Anna relieved Matthew at eight a.m. At that time he would be just finishing feeding her breakfast. He would then leave to get some sleep. Anna would bathe Mary and get her into a clean nightgown.

Mary could not, nor would she, eat large set meals so Anna would feed her bits and bobs through the day and try to get as much fluid into as she could. Mary slept most of the time, but not a sleep of peace, rather a fitful and restless one.

Cora would come in the early afternoon and, while Mary was awake, would read 'Anne of Green Gables' to her.

Throughout the afternoon Robert, Violet, Edith and Sybil would stop by for mostly silent visits.

It was intended that Matthew would return at about five p.m. to take the night shift but Mary would get fretful as the afternoon progressed if he did not show up and so he started coming back at about three. If she was awake he would cool her with a damp cloth while they listened to her mother read. After her mother and Anna left he would feed her dinner and give her her night bath. Then he would read to her ('Pride and Prejudice', when he substituted 'Crawley' for 'Collins' she scolded him and told him he was 'Darcy' ) or they would talk about this and that until she slept. She never slept for more than two hours in a row. Matthew had gotten so engrossed in the storey of Anne that while Mary did sleep he read ahead in the book.

As and when they could Dr. Clarkson and Isobel would stop and check on Mary. On the second day Matthew was back Isobel took Mary's temperature first thing and noticed that it had dropped. She did not say anything to Matthew, she did not want to raise his hopes. She did discuss it with Dr. Clarkson, or Richard as she called him in private, among other things, and they agreed that it was too soon to tell but it looked like the fever might be breaking.

Early Wednesday morning Matthew had just finished wiping some gruel off of Mary's chin when she whispered "I'm wet"

At first he did not understand. "What do you mean wet?"

"Down there" she motioned.

He touched the bed by her middle. It was wet. "Mary, I told you to tell me when you had to pee!"

"It's not pee."

He smelled his fingers. It did not smell like pee. He looked at her. As casual as he could he got up. "I'll go get some clean bedding. I'll be right back" He kissed her on the forehead. "Don't go away". She gave him a weak smile. As soon as he was in the hall he started running.

-0-

Mary screamed, was quiet for three heartbeats and then screamed again. If he had been asked before how Mary would endure labour Matthew would have answered that she would be stoical, only betraying the slightest grimace or giving an occasional discrete grunt. And maybe a rational Mary would have been like that but the mad Mary he was holding down was not. She did not suffer pain quietly.

And she swore. He was amazed that she even knew the words. He had just spent three months being introduced to the genteel art of the private soldier by drill instructors who could use the four basic Anglo Saxon words in every possible permutation in every conceivable grammatical way and he was sure that they would have been impressed by the raw talent Mary displayed. And what she lacked in rhythm and meter she made up for in enthusiasm. She swore at him and Dr. Clarkson and his mother, who was assisting the doctor, and Anna, who was assisting him. She swore at her parents when they showed up.

Mary was also doing her best to tear him to shreds. For someone so weak and fragile she was proving to be quite dangerous. When he could not corral them her hands flailed about; she had already popped him on the nose and one eye, and if those hands of hers latched onto anything it was scratch, claw or pull. He would have lost his right ear if Anna hadn't managed to undo Mary's fingers from it.

And through this maelstrom of a mad, fearful woman in extreme pain he crooned his litany: "I love you Mary; push; let me have the pain; push; you can do it; push; just a little more; push; I love you Mary; push..."

Throughout Matthew kept his focus on Mary's face; he never looked at what was happening behind him. He could hear things, murmurings, the shuffling of feet, the clanging and clanking of what? Forceps? He did not want to know. Occasionally his mother would call for Mary to push harder.

Finally, after what seemed to Matthew to be more that half a day, but was just shy of three hours on the clock Mary gave a final scream and push and then lay back spent. Matthew heard someone, not his mother nor Dr. Clarkson he thought, gasp. He waited for the cry of an infant but there was none. Then he felt his mother's hand on his shoulder.

"Stand up. There's not much time."

Confused Matthew let go of Mary's hand, stood up and looked around. Cora was standing in the back of the room with Robert behind her, one hand on her shoulder. Violet was hustling Travis, the Vicar, into the room. Matthew looked at her.

"My great grand child must be baptized if it is going to be buried in consecrated ground" she explained "Now Vicar, get on with it!"

Isobel gave Matthew the child wrapped in a blanket. He looked at its wizened face, all dark red and blue, it had thick black hair and was making small jerky motions. It was gasping and Isobel handed Matthew a small rubber tube.

"It's oxygen, hold it near its mouth" she explained.

"The Bishop having dispensed with notice we shall proceed." Will these two ever do anything with proper notice? Travis thought "Now who are the godparents?"

Everyone looked at Violet. She looked around.

"Anna and Dr. Clarkson, two are sufficient are they not?"

"But I don't know if..." Travis started to object.

"Get on with it" Violet poked him with her cane "And be quick about it"

"Dearly beloved, for so much as all men are conceived and born in sin..." the Vicar droned on at about four times normal speed.

Matthew felt as he was in a trance as he rocked the child and observed the proceedings as if from afar. Dr. Clarkson was checking Mary's vitals. His mother and Anna were cleaning up Mary and the bed. Robert and Cora were both staring at him and the baby. Violet was goading Travis on as if she were a jockey bringing home a winner at the Derby.

Anna and Dr. Clarkson had to be prompted to make their answers on behalf of the child. And then Travis called on them to name the child. And everyone looked at Matthew.

He shook his head. "Is it a boy or a girl?'"

"A boy" his mother told him. "I'm sorry we should have said"

Matthew bent down so Mary could see the child in his arms. She reached out and touched it on the cheek. "Mary, what name have you picked out for our son?"

"You name him" she said in that small voice of hers.

Matthew straightened up again. He looked around at all of them. There was no help, just anticipation. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Matthew John" Again he looked around, expecting objection but there was none, just nods and a smile from Mary.

Travis took out a vial of water and would have poured all of it on the baby's head but a glare from Isobel and a poke from Violet's cane forestalled that and he only poured a few drops on the baby's forehead.

As soon as Travis had made the sign of the cross on the baby's forehead Matthew knelt down beside and put the baby in Mary's arms. She kissed the little boy's head and ran her finger along his cheek.

The moment Travis wrapped up Violet and Isobel shooed everyone out of the room.

Matthew sat on the bed with Mary in his arms and the baby in hers. She crooned a wordless lullaby as they waited.


	10. Forever Young

_A/N: There are many versions of the chapter title song to be recommended: by Joan Baez, Eddie Vedder, The Band, Norah Jones, Bob Dylan ..._

Forever Young

Tuesday, July 21, 1913

It had been agreed that there would be a simple graveside service.

Matthew was the first one to the cemetery.

That morning Anna had relieved him from his vigil at Mary's bedside. He was thankful Mary was still asleep when he left, he would not have wanted to explain where he was going. He had walked back to Crawley House; refused Mrs. Bird's offer of breakfast, taking only a strong cup of tea, black. He had bathed and shaved and Molesly, back from the Great House, had helped him dress in his black mourning suit. Then, not knowing what to do, he had wandered over to the church.

It was a beautiful summer day; the best England could offer. Blue skies, white fluffy clouds, verdant landscape. There was the faintest of breezes. This was a day to take a one year old out for his first walk barefoot on grass. This was a day for gambolling. A day for teaching a little boy how to fly a kite. A perfect day for going frog hunting in the marsh even though Mama said don't get wet! But this day would see none of that, not ever with their little boy.

He did not know where to wait. He found the so small open grave in the Crawley family plot. It was next to Mary's grandfather's grave. Violet had said her first great grandchild should rest there along side where she would rest someday.

There was no one else in the graveyard. He did not know if he should wait there, or at the church door, or just start walking south until he ran out of world. He decided to go to the entrance of the church and wait for the hearse.

People started to congregate. Mrs. Bird, Susan and Molesly; Carson, and other servants from the Great House; villagers; people he did not recognize. His mother arrived. She hugged him and whispered in his ear that she loved him The estate auto pulled up and Robert handed out Violet. Edith and Sybil followed, they were each carrying small wreaths of flowers.

Robert and Violet stopped by Matthew. "Cora is with Mary" Robert told him. Matthew nodded. They and his mother continued on to the graveside.

Edith and Sybil stood beside Matthew.

"The flowers are for the..." started Edith and then she choked up. Sybil was already crying.

"Thank you" Matthew did not know what else to say. The wreaths were arrangements of small white lilies and miniature white roses. He gave Sybil his handkerchief.

The hearse arrived. The attendant offered to help Matthew carry the coffin, which was larger than he had thought it would be for such a small body, but he refused and he carried it himself to the grave. He knelt down and, with some help from Robert and Carson, placed it on the slings.

Edith knelt and laid her wreath on the coffin and Sybil was about to do the same when Matthew waved her off.

"Please keep it, for Mary"

Travis surveyed the gathered Crawleys and hangers on. This was it; this week he would send his letter to the Bishop begging leave to retire. He would then move in with his widowed sister in Sussex, far away from this maddening crowd. He saw the Dowager Countess glaring at him. She made a small circular motion with her hand. Get on with it. He sighed to himself, he knew at whose funeral service he would rather be officiating.

Travis started the service. Amid the drone of the Vicar and the summer insects Matthew's attention wandered. He prayed that his father in heaven, Dr. Crawley that is, not The Other, would meet Matthew John, and guide him on his way as he had promised Mary. He was not sure how sound such a prayer was theologically but that was the prayer he prayed.

"...Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay..."

Matthew dropped a clod of earth on the coffin. He watched as they filled in the grave. Sybil gave him her wreath and she and Edith walked Violet to the auto.

Robert squeezed Matthew's arm "Come up to the house for lunch."

"Thanks but I think I will go back to the hospital"

His mother walked with him as far as Crawley House. She did not say anything to him, just giving him a hug as they parted.

Cora and Anna were sitting on either side of Mary when he entered her room. All three stared at the wreath of flowers in his hand. Cora and Anna got up and left, not saying anything.

Matthew laid the flowers on Mary's lap. He took off his heavy black coat and laid it over a chair. He sat on the bed beside Mary and hugged her to him. She fingered the flowers.


	11. Emotionally Yours

_A/N : the version of the chapter title song by the O'Jays is recommended._

Emotionally Yours

Tuesday, July 22, 1913 – Thursday, July 31, 1913

Mary's fever started to abate.

Against all medical prognostication she started to recover.

Dr. Clarkson was acclaimed as her saviour but he and Isobel knew better. Mary should have died. The infection was so advanced, her organs should have been failing sequentially until the last little flame of life flickered out. Instead it grew. Why? Or more accurately, how? A miracle? But that was only a conclusion. Prayers answered? Certainly there had been plenty of prayers. Love? As Richard and Isobel stood in the doorway watching Matthew sitting beside Mary, cooling her with the iced water cloth, it was hard not to make that the leading candidate. Mary had fallen off the cliff and Matthew had caught and held her until she was able to claw her way back up the cliff face.

Plenty of food and rest and Richard thought Mary would be walking out of the hospital in ten days or so. Which was good thing because he did not think he could stand another fortnight of the way her demands trumped every bit of his authority.

Matthew was happy that Mary was getting better. Physically. But he was worried about dealing with Mary's emotional needs. He did not know what he could say or do if she became too weepy or fell into too black a mood.

She surprised him. During the days, Anna told him that Mary talked about this and that, but never about the baby. During her waking moments during the nights, when no one else was around, which were fewer and shorter as she slept more and more, a good sign Isobel told him, her body was healing, Mary did not cry over or even refer to the baby. What she wanted, what she demanded, was that he tell her stories about their future children. And like a little child she was vigilant about any discrepancies between the stories. And they talked about whether to educate the children at home, or the local village school, or send them off to boarding school; how much to spoil them; when to let them ride; and so on, all matters that, in the event, would end up being dealt with on the fly.

"And how many daughters will we have?"

"Two"

"No, how many?"

"Three."

"And what are their names?"

"Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail. And our sons are named Stinky, Smelly and Snotty", Matthew had told her they could not give out the real names until they had actually seen the children.

And she did not just want to talk, she wanted to cuddle. She wanted Matthew to lay down with her, which, given the narrowness of the hospital bed, posed certain logistical problems. Matthew ended up positioning the chair beside the middle of the bed so his rear end could rest on it while they lay on their sides, facing each other, Mary in his arms. She usually fell asleep within minutes and he would then disengage himself before his arm fell asleep. There was a fifty fifty chance he would end up falling on the floor doing this. Then he would sit beside the bed watching her sleep, semi-dozing himself, until she woke up, wanted to talk and after they were talked out, he would cuddle with her again. They would go through this cycle three or four times a night.

The fifth night Matthew fell asleep while cuddling with Mary on the bed.

Dr. Clarkson and Isobel, who had been called in to deal with an accident victim, discovered Matthew sleeping with Mary. He wanted to roust Matthew up.

"Don't you dare" warned Isobel.

"Sleeping with a patient! Those beds are not for canoodling!"

"Oh? I seem to recall a certain member of the medical staff using one of those beds for something way beyond canoodling."

Dr. Clarkson harrumphed.

Isobel slipped her arm though his. "Leave them be. Now weren't you saying something about a nightcap?"

As Mary got better there was no need for her to have two bed baths a day. Indeed she could have a bath in a tub. And Anna, not Matthew, could help her. Cora suggested this to her. Isobel suggested this to her. Violet told her to do this. Mary insisted that Matthew would bathe her.

So it came to pass that Matthew walked Mary down the hall to the hospital's bathroom, ran her a warm bath and helped her into it. Anna had given him bath salts, soap, shampoo, three heavy thick towels, powder and a nightgown. He soaped Mary all over. He shampooed her hair. He was quite taken with the suds, no shampoo he had ever used had foamed up so much or smelled as good. He had her lean forward so he could pour jugs of water over her head to rinse her hair. He carefully wrung her hair. Mind no pulling! He wrapped a towel around her head turban style. He had her stand up and he poured jugs of water over her body to rinse the soap off. He held her arm as she stepped out of the tub. He gave her a towel to dry her front while he dried her back. He dried all the way down to her feet. As he dried her bottom he thought we can't do this anymore I won't be able to stand it. His erotic feelings were back in full force. He had her turn around and started drying upwards from her feet. As he got to her middle she spread feet apart.

"You were supposed to dry your front yourself."

"I want you to do it"

"Well give me your towel" He took the dry towel, dried between her legs, and then finished drying her chest and arms. Her skin had a nice rosy hue where he had rubbed the towel.

He had her turn around as he powdered her. He turned to get her clean nightgown and she grabbed his arm. When he turned back towards her she put her arms around his neck.

"Make love to me" she said and she kissed him.

For a moment he considered the possibilities but..."I really really want to.. but you're still sick.."

"I'm better"

"But we don't know if everything has snapped back yet. Wait and I promise I will make love to you so much that you'll say 'please sir, not today'"

She laughed. "Promise?" and she kissed him again.

"Promise" and he kissed her. Then he got her into her nightgown and robe as fast as he could.

As it happened Cora and Isobel were waiting for them when they got back to Mary's room.

Mary gave them both a sweet smile. "Matthew has just given me the most marvellous bath. You should really try being bathed by your loved one sometime" and she giggled.

Matthew was embarrassed for his mother, who had no loved one who could bathe her. He looked at her, expecting she would be perturbed by Mary's comment, but found she had a pensive look on her face.

Later that night, as Matthew struggled with the erotic difficulties that cuddling now entailed, in their separate establishments Robert and Richard both finished bathing their loved ones. Which lead to other things.

-0-

As the end of July approached Matthew started to fret about the necessity of reporting to the Officer Training School. He had not told anyone that he was in the army; what with the crisis over Mary no good opportunity to do so had arisen. He did not want to leave Mary. He loved her and she loved him. What was done was done; they could move on together into the future. He wondered if he could get Robert to pull some strings and get him released from his obligation to the King.

He worried for naught. Mary resolved his dilemma for him.


	12. I Threw It All Away

_A/N: to – I should have made it clear that the 'Richard' in this part of the storey is Dr. Richard Clarkson. The other "Richard' will make his oily appearance later. _

_The version of the chapter title song by Cher is recommended._

I Threw It All Away

Saturday, August 2, 1913

Mary opened her eyes and blinked. She saw Anna smiling at her. "Where am I?"

"In the hospital"

"The hospital?" Mary's hand went to her bump which was now considerably diminished. "The baby?"

Anna shook her head.

"Oh" There was a long pause. "How long have I been here?"

"Almost three weeks"

"Oh" another long pause. "What was wrong with me?"

"You had a very bad infection my lady. You don't remember?"

"No. But I must be better now. It's time to go home. Could you ask them to send Branson down to fetch us."

"Yes my lady"

Mary looked around the room. On the bed side table there was a badly wilted wreath of small white flowers. "And get rid of those flowers, they are so depressing"

"Yes my lady" Anna picked up the flowers.

"Good morning sweetheart!"

Mary and Anna both looked at the doorway where Matthew was standing.

"Do you always barge into a lady's bedroom without knocking?" Mary snapped at him. "And what are you doing here anyway?" She looked at Anna "They say a dog always returns to its vomit, and here is the proof." She glared at Matthew "Come to confirm that there is no bastard for you to worry about, have you?"

Matthew gaped at her.

"Well?" she demanded.

"I...I..." Matthew stammered.

"If you have nothing to say then be gone; you were not here when I needed you and now I do not need you at all."

Matthew regained his composure. He drew himself to attention and gave Mary a short bow. "As your Ladyship wishes". He turned and left the room faster than he had entered.

Anna stared in shock at her mistress. "Oh my lady! How could you do that?" and Anna ran out of the room after Matthew.

In the hall Matthew ran into his mother.

"You heard?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Isobel could see the storm clouds forming on his face. She grabbed his arm to keep him from charging off down the hall. "Mary's been very sick. A little temporary amnesia is a one way her mind has of recovering. It won't last, pretty soon she'll remember what you did for her"

Matthew snorted. He was about to say something when Anna came scurrying out of Mary's room.

"Mr. Crawley, Lady Mary did not mean what she said. Please give her a few days."

Matthew looked at them and shook his head. "You both know that's the real Mary and that's what she really thinks of me" He started down the hall.

Isobel reached out and again grabbed him by the arm.

"What?" he barked.

"You can't just leave now. You love her. You said..."

He shrugged "You told me to say and do whatever I had to to help her get through it and I did. She's better now, my work here is done."

Isobel did not believe him. "Everything you said and did was a lie?"

He shrugged again. "What else could it be?" He kissed his mother on the forehead. "Write me care of Bert. I'll try to arrange to see you in Manchester over Christmas." He turned to Anna. "Thank you for all your help. You've been marvellous." and he patted her on the arm and then he turned and stalked off down the hall.

The two women watched him go.

"So everything he said to Lady Mary was lies?" Anna asked.

"What do you think?"

"I think he was lying to us just now."

"Either that or he is England's greatest actor"

Isobel noticed Anna was holding the wreath. "What are you doing with that?"

"Lady Mary told me to get rid of it"

"Give it here, I'll take care of it"

-0-

Carson laid on a full welcome for the arrival home of his Lady Mary. And he could once again call her Lady Mary. When Anna had called for the auto she told Carson that Lady Mary could not remember anything of her ordeal and that she had also sent Matthew packing. Good riddance, he had never liked that middle class upstart. And had Mr. Crawley really done all that much for Lady Mary? Carson did not think so. There would be no more of this 'Mrs. Crawley' nonsense in his household.

Robert and Cora met Mary at the auto. After Anna talked to Carson he had her tell Lord Grantham. Robert had in turn passed the news onto his wife and daughters. He was alarmed at the news that Mary had sent Matthew away just when a rapprochement seemed possible.

Robert gave Mary his arm to lean on as they slowly made their way into the house.

"Your bedroom is all ready if you would like to rest." Cora told Mary.

"Please, I have been resting entirely too much. Could we go into the library? I do so miss beauty in my surroundings"

Mary sat in the library with her family in an uneasy silence. The inventory of 'You are looking well', "It is so good to have you home', "How _are_ you', 'Can I get you anything...', et cetera, et cetera had been quickly exhausted. Any one of them would have welcomed an opportunity to quiz Mary about her memory loss and what exactly she had said to Matthew. But she gave them none and so they settled down to wait. The Dowager Countess was coming for dinner, she would get to the bottom of things.

After a light lunch tiredness did overcome Mary and so Cora and Anna took her upstairs to her bedroom. She did not sleep well.

"_Finally! I was beginning to think you would never come." It was Pamuk. He held his arms to her. "Give me my son"_

_She looked down. She was holding a beautiful little baby boy, dark haired and perfectly healthy. "No, you can't have him."_

_Pamuk stepped closer. "Come now, you know he is mine. Give him to me" He put his hand on the baby's blanket._

"_Matthew! Matthew!" she screamed._

"Mary, wake up. It's OK"

Mary opened her eyes. Her mother was sitting beside her, with Anna standing behind.

"He's in the room!"

"Who, Matthew? You were calling his name"

Mary was frantic. "No Pamuk is, he's come for my baby! I've got to get out of here!"

She struggled to get out of the bed. It was all Cora and Anna could do to keep her in it. Finally Mary calmed down. Cora stroked the hair off of her forehead.

"Would it help if we moved you to another bedroom?"

Mary clutched her mother's arm. "Yes, yes. He's waiting for me in here, he'll never find me somewhere else."

"Anna, please have Mrs. Hughes prepare Lady's Grantham's old bed chamber for Lady Mary" Cora commanded.

-0-

Mary did not go down to dinner that night. In her new bedroom she fell into a deep sleep.

"_Mary we have to go now."_

_Matthew was standing in front of her holding her baby. But it was not Matthew, it was a much older man, as old as her own father, who looked like what Matthew would look like when he was that old._

_She held her hand out towards her son. He reached for it and grabbed her finger with his little hand._

"_You can't go, he needs me" she cried. "Let me go with you"_

"_He'll be safe with me, won't you grandson?" and the man tickled the baby under his chin. "Mary you have to stay; your other children will need you." He held the baby up to her "Now give Matthew John a kiss and then we must be on our way. Remember that he will be waiting for you when it is your time"_

_Mary kissed her baby goodbye and then watched them walk away into the distance, towards the light._

Before retiring for the night Cora and Robert looked in on Mary. She was sleeping soundly, with a smile on her face.


	13. I'll Remember You

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Thea Gilmore is recommended._

I'll Remember You

Sunday, August 3, 1913 on

Over the next few days Mary started to be bothered by the behaviour of her family towards her. They were not warm and welcoming towards her but neither were they cold and distant. They were reserved. They did not talk with her, they would exchange a few pleasantries with her but then they would remember a pressing appointment elsewhere.

Just for the sport of it she tried to pick a fight with Edith but Edith walked away as if she were not even there. Sybil would not talk to her all, the most she had gotten out of her was an angry 'how could you?' tossed over her shoulder by Sybil as she stalked off down the hall.

Her father acted as Mary were a ghost, acknowledging her existence, but acting as if ignoring her would somehow kept him safe from whatever bad luck she represented. Her mother at least enquired every day after Mary's health and saw that her every need was met, but even she did not make any effort to connect with Mary. After a lifetime of trying to keep Mary on a tight rein it seemed as if her mother had turned her out to pasture and was now content to watch to her from the paddock gate.

Her family below stairs was both better and worse. Carson, her doting uncle in every way except lineage, was ebullient. That is, to the extent that his impassive butlertorial visage would allow. It was 'Lady Mary this' and 'Lady Mary that'; whatever Lady Mary wanted that was in his power to bestow was hers. She could bask in his adoration. Not so with Anna.

It appeared that Mary had lost Anna's friendship. They did not chat. Anna did not offer her opinion on which outfit to wear. She did not stray beyond the boundaries of her role as a servant. It was all 'Yes, my lady', "No, my lady', 'Will that be all my lady?'. When asked a direct question about anything other than the strict mechanics of her employment she would just answer 'It is not my place my lady'.

When her grandmother came to dinner Mary thought she would at last be able to talk to someone. Then, looking across the dining table and seeing her grandmother giving her a cold appraisal, Mary had an epiphany. Her family were treating her the way they treated her grandmother's cat, Turandot. They were all frightened of her. They thought she would blow up and hurt them. But they were also angry with her. Why?

As soon as the ladies had left Robert to his solitary cigar and glass of port and passed through to the drawing room Mary sought out her grandmother.

Without preamble she asked "Why is everyone scared of me? And why are they angry with me?"

"Ask Matthew" was Violet's answer.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Matthew can answer both those questions for you."

"But he isn't here"

"That is not my problem, it is yours"

Mary had had enough. Pleading tiredness she went to bed.

Matthew. During her waking hours, while she was alert, she did not speak of him, no one mentioned him to her. Matthew was no more than an irritation to her; the cause of all that afflicted her but now safely gone from her life. But. If her mind wandered, if her back ached and she thought of how nice it would be to have someone rub it for her, it was Matthew. Trying to read she found that it was Matthew's voice reading the book to her. Laying back in the warm water of her bath she closed her eyes and it was Matthew washing between her toes.

And each night she slept with Matthew. The good dreams were all different. Different to the extent that they took place in various domestic situations, some involving six children, a number she found extraordinary, but they all ended with Matthew and her making love in one way or another. She slept well after those dreams. The bad dreams were all the same: she told Matthew off, sometimes screaming, sometimes in cold clipped tones, and he left her. And she never saw him again. Those dreams woke her up.

Mary finally decided that things could not go on as they were and she started to piece together the details of her hospital stay.

Dr. Clarkson was a fount of information for he was not a party to the conspiracy of the silence that surrounded her in the Great House. He called in to take her temperature, check her pulse and generally confirm she was well on the road to recovery. As he was putting his paraphernalia back in his bag he recommended that she do some walking, to get some muscle tone.

"Doctor, I am remiss in not thanking you for saving my life" Mary gave him her most gracious smile.

Dr. Clarkson allowed himself to bask for a brief moment in the glow of that smile, never before bestowed on him, but then he confessed "As much I would like to claim the credit, I cannot. Your situation was beyond anything medicine could do for you; no, you should give credit to those who prayed for you"

"Come now Doctor, are you, as a man of science, saying I was saved by a divine miracle?"

"If you define a divine miracle as something that happens which is inexplicable, yes." Dr. Clarkson nodded at her "I must be off Lady Mary, please remember to do some walking". As he was leaving the room, he turned back to her. He had been primed to say what he was about to say by Isobel. "If you don't like that explanation you might consider the power of love"

"Love?"

"In all my practice I have never seen such fierce love and devotion as your young man showed you. It may be that he was only thing keeping you from boarding Charon's ferry." Although Isobel had wanted him to say this to Mary he believed it. He would have given a thousand to one odds to anyone betting Lady Mary was going to recover.

"Thank you Doctor, I will tell him you said so"

He nodded to her and left. He smiled to himself, he knew she had driven Matthew off, it would be awhile before she told Matthew anything.

-0-

That night when Anna was helping her get ready for bed Mary decided to get the whole storey.

"Anna please sit down"

Anna sat on the edge of the bed.

"I want you to tell me everything that happened at the hospital from the moment Matthew first came."

"It is not my place my lady"

"Anna don't give me any of that crap!"

Anna put her hand to her mouth. "My lady!"

"Anna you are my friend. I know you are angry with me. Everyone is angry with me. I want to know why."

Anna sighed and nodded. "Well my Lady you had been in the hospital for about a week. Your fever was getting worse and worse and there didn't seem to be anything they can do. Your mind started..."

"Yes I know, I was quite mad. Go on"

"Anyway about two days before Mr. Crawley came you started talking like you and him were happily married, and he was at work in Ripon and you were waiting for him to come home and you would call out for him and he didn't come and it was really quite pitiful. Then he came and..."

As Anna talked Mary sometimes interrupted her. Usually with short questions along the lines of 'He saw my ..?', 'He touched my...?', "He wiped my...?', 'Where?', "I was that horrid?', 'I said what to him?.'

Finally Anna concluded "The last morning, the one you ... ah.. sent him away, I relieved him about 7:00 a.m., you were still sleeping, he kissed you on the forehead, said 'I'll see you later Sleeping Beauty', and then he left to get breakfast and to shower. Three hours later you woke up and well ... you know the rest."

-0-

"How did the baby come to be named 'Matthew John'?" Mary threw her question into the middle of dinner that night. The question splashed down and the ripples spread out from it touching every member of her family. None of them answered; indeed none of them looked her in the eye. Her sisters did not know and her parents were each worried about how Mary would react if they told her.

"Well?" Mary was imperious. "Someone here must know."

Robert looked at Cora, she gave him the barest hint of a shrug. They both wished Violet was there; she could out Mary, Mary.

"There was not much time when the baby was born" Robert began, watching Mary "and he needed a name in order to be baptized" he paused waiting but Mary just looked at him "and Matthew showed him to you and asked you if you had a name picked out and you told him to name the baby and so he named him 'Matthew John' and you agreed" this last came in a rush as Robert hurried to get it out before Mary blew up.

But she did not, she just asked, in a neutral tone "And why did he pick those names?"

"We don't know" Cora answered.

"No one asked him?" asked Mary.

"No"

"'Matthew' means 'Gift of God' and John means 'God is gracious' so if you put them together the baby's names mean 'Gift of God's grace'"

They all looked at Sybil.

"I looked the meanings up" she explained. "'Grace' means..."

"We all know what 'grace' means, thank you Sybil" Robert told her. He and Cora both looked at Mary.

In the same neutral tone Mary asked "And where is Matthew John now?"

"He is buried in the family plot"

"I would like to go there tomorrow"

"We will take you" said Cora.

Tuesday, August 12, 1913

There was not much to see. Just a small rectangle of disturbed sod with three small bouquets laying on it. Mary sank down to the ground beside the plot.

"We haven't ordered the headstone yet" Robert told her "We wanted to know what you and.. what you wanted on it"

Mary could see the inscription in her mind 'Matthew John Crawley, Beloved son of Matthew and Mary Crawley, July 23, 1913 Forever Young' "I will write it out for you"

Robert and Cora looked at each other. "Certainly" he said.

"Who are the flowers from?" She asked.

"Your father and I; your grandmother and your mother-in-law." answered Cora.

Mary touched the flowers. "There were other flowers, little white flowers, what happened to them?" Mary asked in a very quiet voice.

"There were two wreaths of tiny white lilies and roses. Edith and Sybil brought them." Cora looked at Robert.

"Matthew laid one of them on the coffin and he took one to give to you." Robert finished.

Mary put her hand to her mouth. "I told Anna to throw it away" she remembered.

Robert reached down to help Mary get up.

"Don't fret" Cora said "Cousin Isobel told me she rescued it from Anna and is pressing it under a pile of Matthew's law books."

"I would like to see it"

Robert offered Mary his arm. "Then let us go drop in on Cousin Isobel"

As they walked Cora asked Mary "Do you remember the other flowers?"

Mary thought "No"

"When we laid Matthew John out you insisted that he lay on a bed of flower petals and so we ended up denuding our garden and your grandmother's and Mr. Molesley's"

They walked along in silence for awhile then Mary remembered "He was dressed in something blue"

"Yes" Cora replied "we dressed him in a blue outfit and wrapped him in a blue baby blanket" she sighed "When we let my mother know I was expecting, you as it turned out, she sent us two baby outfits with matching blankets, one blue and other pink. Well you know what happened, we used the pink one three times and saved the blue one, just in case."

Cora was starting to tear up and so Mary stopped and hugged her mother. "Thank you for all you've done." She looked at her father. "Thanks to you both"

When they arrived at Crawley House Mary asked "Do you mind terribly if I see Isobel on my own?"

"No, of course not" said her father. "Look we don't want you to get too tired, how about we send Branson to collect you in an hour's time"

Mary agreed and watched her parents walk away and then she walked up to the door and rang the bell.

Isobel was surprised to see Mary. She had not seen her since the day Mary had sent Matthew away. She was not sure she wanted to see Mary now. But she invited her in anyway.

Once Mary had been plied with the requisite cup of tea Isobel gave her an expectant look.

"I...I.." Mary stammered, it was so unlike her; she did not know what she wanted to say, there was so much she wanted to say, she did not know where to start. "I would like to thank you for all you did for me. I am told I was not the most pleasant of patients."

As to be expected Isobel waved off Mary's thanks with the usual polite responses. Another long silence ensued.

"I would like to see Matthew" Mary said with a calmness that she could feel was starting to slip away from her.

"I don't know where he is"

"But I must thank him.." Mary's voice quavered and then she started to cry "I need him"

Isobel got up and sat beside Mary and hugged her. "There, there dear. I'm sure he'll come back" sooner or later, probably later, Isobel thought, you really put the boots to him. It's going to take a long time for him to forget, and forgive, that kicking.

Mary sniffed and regained her composure. "Mother says you saved the baby's wreath"

"Yes, I'm pressing it. Would you like to see it?"

"Please"

Isobel lead Mary upstairs to Matthew's room. Mary had never been there before. On the desk was a stack of law book and Isobel started moving them aside until she came to a layer of wax paper.. Underneath was the wreath. Mary touched one of the leaves.

"It's not totally dried out yet. When it is I will get it to you." Isobel told her.

Mary nodded her thanks and then started to sway. Isobel steered her over to the bed. "Sit down dear.. I think you've done too much today, it's worn you out." Isobel touched Mary's forehead and then took her pulse. "We don't want a relapse. Why don't you slip out of those clothes and get in bed. I'll find you a nightgown."

"I can't. It wouldn't be proper..."

"...for a wife to sleep in her husband's bed?"

Mary gave her a tired smile. "When you put it that way... I am feeling quite tired."

"Good" Isobel pulled back the covers on the bed while Mary started undressing. Isobel was about to go get one of her nightgowns when a thought struck her. She looked in Matthew's armoire and found his pyjamas from the last time he had worn them. Definitely not recommended from a sanitary point of view, but Matthew didn't have any communicable diseases and he hadn't mentioned any rashes.. it was worth a gamble. She picked them up and threw them to Mary, who was down to her smalls. No corset Isobel noticed with thanks. "Here put these on"

Mary caught the pyjamas and then realized what they were. "I can't..."

"Because?"

Mary couldn't think of any reason why a wife couldn't wear her husband's pyjamas. She shrugged.

"Exactly, now get them on and then crawl into bed. I'll go get you a glass of water."

Mary snuggled into the bed. The room was warm and she was very tired. When she closed her eyes the scent of Matthew enveloped her. She smiled.

When Isobel came back with the water Mary was sound asleep.

A half an hour later, when Branson arrived, he was sent back to the Great House with a message that Mrs. Crawley would be spending the night with her mother-in-law at Crawley House.


	14. What Good Am I

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by The Pines is recommended._

Monday, August 4, 1913 on

What Good Am I

The first week of Officer Training was about what Matthew expected. Meeting his tent mates; pulling equipment and uniforms; getting prodded and poked by medicos; getting orientated; some close order drill, more for the show of it, they all knew their left from their right; some route marches. Nothing too bad.

It was a good thing the first week was so easy because thereafter the Army and Mary started putting him through hell.

The major in charge of his training company was frightful. It did not help that Maj. Harry Flashman had a patch over one eye and his left hand was made of wood covered with a brown leather glove. He carried a swagger stick in his right hand which he would beat against the artificial hand to emphasize the points he made.

"You may think you have heard of me. It's my grandfather you're probably thinking of. Old Sir Harry had quite the military career even after you discount his memoirs by the requisite eighty per cent."

"I spent my time in Africa." he waved his left hand at his eye patch. "Parts of me are still there."

"I came up through the ranks like you." Seeing the sceptical looks of his audience he held up his right hand "I may have started higher than you but I fell farther. I was expelled from Sandhurst for cheating. Old Sir Harry wasn't too happy with me – it wasn't that I cheated, it was that I got caught – and he had me shanghaied into a regiment shipping out to Africa. I worked my way up to Sergeant and had my eyes set on becoming RSM when in a fit of carelessness I saved the life of Baden Powell himself and he promoted me to lieutenant. You might say without me there wouldn't any Scouting movement springing up around you. But I digress."

"The Yankee Navy calls enlisted men who become officers 'mustangs', 'mustangs' being wild horses in the Wild West which are caught and broke to be ridden. But the key is that they always retain some of their wildness. And that is the case with you. You are enlisted men who have been chosen, caught if you will, to be officers. But you are only temporary gentlemen and will be regarded as such by our social betters. You will never be allowed to serve in the guards and cavalry regiments; if you survive what is about to come you will never rise above field grade; if there are any fancy balls and such scheduled you will find you have guard duty that night. No, you will be assigned to regiments of foot no one has ever heard of to do the dirty work while the aristos get all the credit. And by dirty work I mean killing." He certainly had everyone's attention now. "All of which is a round about way of saying that for the next five months I am going to teach you to kill Germans; there is no point in being coy about that, in the most efficient manner without getting yourself and your troops killed in the process." he paused, to let that sink in, then continued "And if you have a pressing need to learn which fork to use, or how to crook your little finger when you're taking tea with a Duchess, ask Crawley, he's the only gentleman in here."

Everyone turned and stared at Matthew.

-0-

Because Matthew had been chosen for the course straight out of basic training he became the company 'Rupert'. All the other officer candidates had real world military experience, he didn't. So he became the bad example.

"Crawley what would you do?" some instructor would give him some scenario, with no time to think "Make a decision! Your men are dying! Do something!" and then his, inevitably wrong, answer would be transected and dissected and mocked. It was not fair, all his legal training had taught him to slowly consider all possibilities and then carefully choose the best solution. And that was all for naught. Now it was "Make a decision! Your men are dying! Do something!"

There was no rest. The instructors slept in shifts so the candidates could not sleep at all. There was always noise and activity. The major did not believe in show and tell, he was strictly a do it man. And they did it. They dug trenches, lived in trenches, defended trenches, attached trenches, set ambushes and sprung ambushes. They spent a worrying amount of time learning how to conduct an orderly retreat.

At the nadir it was suggested by the Major that Matthew's presence in the course meant that some village in England was missing its idiot. But the next day a bit of misdirection orchestrated by Matthew allowed him to ambush the opposing Blue Force and earned an nod from the Major himself. Matthew's military career started its ascent.

Aphorisms became reflexes. Be alert. Watch your flanks. Know your men. Set an example. Be prepared. Stay calm. Check and recheck the equipment. Have a Plan B.

The Major and the other instructors quickly learned Matthew had a temper. But instead of beating it out of him they taught him to harness it. And over the autumn anger became for him not a hot red fog but a cold blue edge. An edge that complimented a rare talent that the instructors discerned in Matthew, a talent Matthew did not know he possessed and perhaps would be horrified to learn he did. It was clear to them he was a soldier. A real soldier. Not just a body filling an uniform; not an automaton blindly following orders; not a vainglorious warrior forgetting all discipline; not a berserker drunk on blood lust. No he was a soldier. He possessed every characteristic they were looking for: intelligence, self discipline, steadfastness, reliability and most importantly of all, they were convinced he possessed grace under pressure. If your flank was unprotected you would want Matthew out at the very end. He would hold it for you, usque ad finem if necessary.

All this was their opinion, first contact with the enemy would put it to the test. Major Flashman made a mental note to follow Matthew's career; if things went as badly pear shaped in Europe as he feared he would have use for someone with Matthew's talent.

None of them told Matthew any of this. That he maintained a little self doubt was a good thing, it would keep him on his toes; they were confident that he would not allow doubt to paralyze him.

-0-

The Army required, demanded every last bit of Matthew, body and soul. Mary would not allow it.

There were actually two Marys warring with the Army over Matthew's attention. The mad Mary who loved Matthew and the well Mary who did not, or as Matthew came to reference them, Mary and Lady Mary. Mary was warm, uninhibited, bawdy, funny, caring; Lady Mary was cold, imperious, reserved, contemptuous.

When Matthew had a good day Mary was with him. Encouraging and congratulatory; proud of him. Holding out her arms to him for a hug. When he had bad days, which at the start of his training were much more numerous than the good days, Lady Mary was there, not with him, but there. Mocking and disparaging; ashamed of him. Pointing at the door. Begone, begone, begone.

For the longest time Matthew was transfixed by the dichotomy of the two Marys. Loving the one and hating the other; but gradually losing ground to the latter. It seemed inevitable that Lady Mary would gain the whip hand and he would be gone from her life forever. Until one day...

He was placed in command of Red Force and tasked with ambushing Blue Force. He split off a small portion of his command, overriding the axiom that you never never divide your forces in the face of the enemy, and had them carry out a clamorous demonstration in the face of Blue Force. While Blue Force's attention was captured by this decoy he sprung his ambush. His success earned a nod from the Major.

That night while he was replaying his triumph in his mind he realized that there might not be two Marys at all. Maybe Mary was using Lady Mary as a decoy. Maybe the Mary that loved him was using Lady Mary as a test; he had deserted her after the wedding; would he be steadfast no matter how cruel her words were to him? She could certainly wound with words. Or would he desert her again?

Maybe...maybe. No it was too farfetched. Lady Mary was the real Mary, the sane Mary, and she hated him. She wanted to be rid of him. But...but he could not forget those late night talks with Mary about their six children... he had to smile at six, a number she had suggested...oh what to do? What to do?

He remembered his instructors yelling at him "Make a decision, your men are dying, do something". He made a decision. He would put Lady Mary / Mary to a test. Their marriage could still be annulled; it had never been consummated. He would offer her that out; if she really and truly wanted to be rid of him she would take it. If she didn't .. well then he would lay court to her and make her his wife, truly.


	15. Born In Time

_A/N: The version of chapter title song by Meg Hutchinson is recommended._

Born In Time

Friday, November 14, 1913

Mary gave her mother-in-law an expectant look. Isobel had invited her to tea.

"The week after the wedding Matthew sent me a package."

Isobel stood up and retrieved a large thin rectangular document folder wrapped in brown paper from the desk. She showed it to Mary. On the outside paper there were the words:

_'Mother do not open this until I tell you or you receive word of my death'_

Isobel smiled at Mary. "Well I opened it right away and this is what I found"

On a second layer of paper underneath were the words:

_'I must be dead because I don't recall telling you to open this package. Now please don't open it until I'm dead or I tell you. If you open it too soon you may wreck things.'_

Mary laughed.

Isobel continued. "Yes, he knows me quite well. Anyway in today's post I got a letter from Matthew telling me to open the package" and she removed the last piece of covering paper, opened up the folder, pulled out a sheaf of documents and handed them to Mary.

Mary shuffled through them. They were all different types of investment certificates, share certificates and British Consols, all in Mary's name. On the top was a reconciliation; the total of the investments equalled the settlement Matthew had received from her father at the wedding. Mary did not know what to say.

"When I opened the package there was a letter" Isobel waved it at Mary "And remember it was written just after the wedding. Anyway in the letter Matthew wrote:

_'When you think Mary has recovered sufficiently from the birth give her the package I sent you. _

_If you can be diplomatic, and Mother, I know that is a stretch for you, could you please suggest to her that she not reinvest the money back in the Abbey. If she does it will just get tangled up in the entail; I want the money to be solely available for her and the child. _

_Otherwise it is up to her what she does with the investments. _

_I would recommend that she hold onto the Anglo Persian Oil Co. shares; with ships switching to oil and so many more autos on the road I think it is a good long term investment._

_Some of the money is in short term investments; I did this in the hope that she purchase a farm with a good house so that if things go wrong at the Abbey she and the child have a place to live. _

_I know that she is so pigheaded she will probably do the exact opposite of what I suggest but at least try. It might help if you don't mention that they were my ideas.' _

Isobel looked at Mary "I think it is good advice"

Mary nodded. "I'll have to think it through, it is so overwhelming"

"That's all I'm asking dear. In addition to permission to open the package Matthew sent something else" and Isobel handed Mary some folded up legal documents.

Mary unfolded them. One was Matthew's consent to an annulment of their marriage, the other was Matthew's affidavit saying that their marriage had not been consummated. "He wants to be rid of me"

Isobel reached across and patted her hand "They don't say that at all. Look at them the way a lawyer would"

Mary read the papers again and shook her head "I don't understand"

"When Matthew was studying law he told me that the hardest part was learning how to think like a lawyer. He said most people just look at one side, a lawyer must look at both sides. You look at those legal documents and you see the word annulment and since you are not seeking an annulment it must be Matthew who wants one. That is not what those documents say. If he wanted to be rid of you he would be the one seeking the annulment. He is saying that if you want to leave he won't stand in your way. He has opened the door to the cage; if you want to fly away that is your choice."

"So if I don't do anything we will remain married"

"Exactly"

Mary slid the legal documents into the folder with the investments. She handed it to Isobel "Do you mind taking care of these for me? There are so many prying eyes at the Abbey."

Isobel nodded her agreement.

"Should I get an annulment?" asked Mary.

Isobel shrugged.

"Does Matthew love me?"

Isobel did not reply for a long time. Finally she asked "Do you love him?"

This time Mary took a long time to reply. "I think I do. I don't know when I started to love him. I'm starting to remember more and more of what happened when I was in the hospital. Not so much the actual details although Anna has filled me on those. I blush when I hear what he did for me ..."

"We all do dear" Isobel interjected.

Mary continued "What I do remember is that I was lost in a hot dark fog that was both black and red at the same time if you know what I mean and it was suffocating me and I wanted to give up and then a bright blue cool light surrounded me and hugged me and I knew I was loved and I was all right and another, smaller, bright blue cool light surrounded the baby and took him away and I knew it was to heaven and so I knew he would be OK too." she fluttered her hands "I know it doesn't make sense and is so melodramatic but to me that was what happened. His love saved me. And I fell in love with him"

Isobel moved over the sofa beside Mary and hugged her. Mary looked at her "You still haven't answered my question. Does Matthew love me?"

"I don't know. I know he has loved you twice, but I don't know if he loves you now."

"Twice?"

"I know it was an imposition for you when we came to Downton but to Matthew it was like falling into Wonderland, some elaborate fairy tale. He was the lowly commoner, who was secretly a prince, and you were the beautiful princess, perfection personified, who lived in the castle. He was going to slay a few dragons then carry you off on his white charger and you'd both live happily ever after. That ideal Mary was the first Mary he loved. He had no idea that that ideal Mary could pee and poop, barf and snot, and make a truly horrendous mistake. When he found out it broke his heart."

"You know you were dying?" Mary nodded "We had all given up on you and were just waiting for the inevitable. So when Matthew showed up at the hospital I told him to say and do whatever you wanted to hear to help ease your passing. Well you were so out of your mind you thought you were a loving couple and he played along. But then you didn't die. It was like he wouldn't let you die. You clung to him, incidentally setting a record for worst patient ever, and absolutely would not be parted from him. And he definitely learned you could pee and poop, barf and snot, because he cleaned it all up. Through everything that happened..." they both knew she meant the death of the baby "...he was there. Then you got better and sent him packing and that broke his heart the second time.

"So I don't know if he still loves you. You can only glue a broken teacup back together so many times"

-0-

Mary did not know how or when to tell her family about what Matthew had sent to her. Even though it had been send through Isobel she knew, she was positive, it had been sent directly to her.

Things were complicated by the visit of her Aunt Rosamund. She did not know about Pamuk and as Grannie has said 'I love her dearly but if you tell Rosamund about him you might as well take out a full page advertisement in the Times', so she was very down on Matthew, thinking that it was he who had done Mary wrong. It was the expression of this negative attitude by her aunt at dinner that night that tricked Mary into revealing the things she had received.

"Robert, I for one do not know why you let him get away with it. He's probably gallivanting down in Monte Carlo gambling away Mary's settlement while Mary is chained up here in this sham marriage. If only I had been at the wedding" here Rosamund paused to glare at everyone in general for not inviting her "I wouldn't have let him get away with it."

Mary tried to get someone, Grannie, her father, or her mother, to stifle her aunt but everyone seemed to have developed an interest in the intricacies of the china's pattern.

Rosamund continued her rant. "You know it's theft, that's what it is. You "she pointed at her brother "should hire detectives to hunt him down and haul him back to the Old Bailey to answer for how he extorted all that money from you. Hanging is too good for..."

"He doesn't have the money, I have it!" Mary snapped.

They all stared at her.

"And I am not chained to my marriage, Matthew has consented to an annulment if, if I want one" she emphasized the second 'if'

"And do you want one?" Rosamund asked.

"I don't know!"

"Well you should. There's no reason to remain married to him; even if he gave you the money back, he still deserted you." Rosamund paused to take a breath. "It is a marriage of convenience which is no longer convenient. Honour was satisfied with the death of the baby; it's time you moved on with your life."

Robert held up his hand before Mary could blow up. "That will be enough of that subject at the table. I am sure Mary will make her own decision about the future of her marriage in due course." Then looking directly at Mary he told her "I will speak to you tomorrow about putting the money back into..."

"I'm sorry to interrupt Papa but I'm keeping the money separate."

"Pardon?" Robert blinked at her.

"It is my settlement and I intend to invest it. I am thinking of buying a farm with a good house on it."

Mary gave her aunt a sweet but insincere smile "Now if you will excuse me, all this hectoring has given me a terrible headache"

Without waiting for permission Mary got up, placed her napkin on her plate, and left the dining room.


	16. Tomorrow Is A Long Time

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Judy Collins is recommended._

Tomorrow Is A Long Time

Wednesday, December 10, 1913

"No"

Isobel glared at Bert. She and Mary were sitting in the law office of Matthew's friend, Bert Hastings. He was not proving to be helpful.

"Are you saying 'no' to me, Bert Hastings? I've known you since you were a snot nosed brat. I practically raised you. You know you're not too big to paddle."

Bert did not say 'I think I am'; he remembered how Matthew's mother dealt with smart remarks in the past and she still looked like she could twist an ear or two. If she started coming around his desk he was heading the other way even if he had to run over Matthew's wife to get away. He held up his hands in placation. "I really would like to assist you ladies but Matthew is my client. If I were to tell you where he is when he has specifically enjoined me not to he could have my ticket pulled."

"What if I was on my deathbed?" Isobel demanded.

"I would send him a telegram, he is no more than a two hour train ride away. Are you...is there some urgency? I understood that you would be seeing him at Christmas here in Manchester."

"Yes but ..."

"I won't be" Mary interrupted. "I need to speak to Matthew"

This was the first time Mary had spoken. Bert hesitated "Ah... if it has to do with the annulment your solicitor should speak to me ..."

"No...no it has to do with more than that..."

"Look I would be happy to ask Matthew to meet with you." Bert offered.

"No... thank you anyway" Mary's tone was wistful as she finished "I'm sure I'll see him sometime, someday."

Bert thought that would be the end of their meeting but then Mary asked:

"Could you act as my solicitor on another matter?"

"Certainly as long as it doesn't conflict with my retainer from Matthew. But don't you have a family solicitor?"

"I do not want my family to know my business. Would you tell Matthew about it?"

"I do not discuss any of my client's business with any of my other clients."

"Good. I am thinking of buying a farm and I would like you to handle the purchase for me in due course. In the meantime I have some questions about the legalities involved."

"Excuse me" said Isobel "I will wait for you in the waiting room."

Bert escorted Isobel out of his office and instructed his receptionist to get her some tea and the special chocolate biscuits.

-0-

Afterwards Isobel escorted Mary around Manchester's business district as Mary dealt with her various investments. This took less time than anticipated and they had an hour to kill before they had to catch their train. Isobel suggested a nice tea room where they could dawdle. Mary had another suggestion.

"Is your husband's grave a long way away?"

"No, it's maybe a ten minute walk. Would you like to see it?" Had Isobel been on her own she would have made the pilgrimage but on this lightening day trip with Mary she had not thought there would be a chance.

"Yes, I would like to thank him"

"For?"

"For taking care of Matthew John"

"Well come this way then. Now keep a look out for a confectionery. Reginald wasn't much for flowers but he did love his sherbert lemons so I always scatter a few on his grave." She could see Mary smiling at her. "I know it's silly of me, I suppose the squirrels get them."

Mary took her arm. "It's not silly at all, I think I'll get some peanuts to scatter, I'm sure Matthew John would be amused watching the squirrels."

Friday, December 19, 1913

By the middle of December Matthew was a hard man, the only test left for him was actual contact with the enemy.

The graduation banquet was a boisterous affair. After the meal was concluded Major Flashman called out "Mr. Vice!"

Matthew, as the most junior officer present, was responsible for the Loyal Toast. He stood up and held up his glass. "Gentlemen...The King!"

Major Flashman then addressed the gathering:

"You have been trained like Spartans. That is deliberate. Leonidas and three hundred Spartans held the narrow pass of Thermopylae, only a few yards wide, against a Persian army a thousand times larger than them long enough for the rest of the Greeks to organize a defence and save what became Western Civilization. You are Britain's Spartans. In the next year or so three million Germans are going to attack the West. We can initially only put three hundred thousand men into the field against them. You will be part of that number. Belgium is your Thermopylae, only this one is a few hundred miles wide. You will have to hold the Germans until the West can mount a defence. The future of our civilization may depend on it."

The major held up his glass "I do not know if the Spartans had a toast they used when Leonidas and his men set off. A Spartan woman would give her son heading off to battle his shield and tell him to come back 'with it or on it' so any toast the Spartans did have was probably along the lines of 'May your death be quick and clean, not slow and obscene.' That is perhaps a little too morbid, so instead let us remember the bard's words in Henry V:

_'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;  
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me  
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,  
This day shall gentle his condition;  
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed  
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,  
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks  
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.'_

We leave this place today and will meet again within the year upon our own modern field of Agincourt. Until then I salute you my band of brothers" and the Major downed his drink.

Everyone leapt to their feet. A general clamour ensued. "Hear, hear!"

Matthew was now a second lieutenant in the Second Battalion of the Manchester Regiment. He had to report for duty on Monday, January 5, 1914. Which meant he had two weeks to think about Mary.


	17. Make You Feel My Love

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Adele is recommended._

Make You Feel My Love

Monday, December 29, 1913

Not six months ago Matthew had sworn he would never make this train trip north and east again and yet here he was. He gave his mother a sour look.

"You seem remarkably well recovered."

His mother gave him a big smile. "Yes I feel much better. You know I just cannot take the smoke and fog of a Manchester winter anymore. I guess I am too used to the clean air of Downton" she reached across and patted him on his knee. "It was so nice for you to agree to accompany your aged and infirm mother back home."

He snorted. "Downton isn't your home"

"I'm afraid it is."

He rolled his eyes. "Well I'm not going to see them" He meant Mary and his mother probably realized that.

"No one is asking you to. You can hide out in your bedroom and read books. You might get tired of the victuals though, Mrs. Bird has gone to her sister's for Christmas, it may just be tea and biscuits."

He grinned at her "That's OK I'll just fry something up"

Now she rolled her eyes and he laughed. She gazed fondly at him. Come into my parlour said the spider's mother-in-law to the fly.

-0-

"Mrs. Crawley?" Carson said, oh how he hated to say that but Lady Mary had gone back to insisting on that mode of address and what could he do?

"Yes, Carson" she gave him a sweet smile.

"A boy has come from the village with a message for you."

Mary held out her hand for it.

Carson coughed. "I do not have it. He insists that he give it directly to you"

Mary laughed. "And you cannot intimidate him into giving it to you. You must be losing your touch Carson. Come let's go see the lad."

In the entrance hall stood a boy of about thirteen or fourteen, covered in snow, clutching a letter in one hand and his cap in the other. Mary walked up to him.

"I'm Mrs. Crawley. You have something for me?"

The boy held out the letter. "Mrs. Crawley, the other one I mean, she said you would give me a shilling."

Mary took the letter. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Billy Brown Your Ladyship"

"You must be the grocer's son."

"Yes, I am"

"It looks like its quite cold and snowy out"

"Yes, I almost froze my..." the boy's voice trailed off.

Mary turned to Carson. "Please give Mr. Brown two shillings for his trouble" Billy gave her a big grin.

Carson sniffed. "Wait here lad" and went to get his purse.

Mary couldn't wait. She opened the letter. All it said was:

_'He's here. Until this Sunday. Says he won't go up to the Abbey._

_Isobel_

_PS. Dr. Clarkson is hosting a Xmas party for the hospital staff tonight. I'll be leaving at 7:00 p.m._

_PPS Both Mrs. Bird and Ellen are gone for the holidays.'_

Mary's forehead furrowed. Why would she care that... then she got it. She looked at the grandfather clock. It was a quarter to. "Carson!" she called.

"Yes my Lady?"

"Please ask Anna to come up to my room and have Branson bring the auto around as soon as possible. Oh and could you see if Mrs. Patmore can give Mr. Brown a cup of hot chocolate and a biscuit or two." She turned to Billy. "Don't worry you'll still get your two shillings plus a ride home in the auto." Then she headed up the stairs. What to wear, what to wear?

Carson looked at the ceiling and shook his head.

-0-

Matthew saw his mother off to her party and then settled onto the sofa. He had on his old cardigan and slippers, a cup of tea, a plate of chocolate biscuits, a book his mother had given him for Christmas, a collection of G.K. Chesterton's Father Brown stories, and a nice fire in the fireplace. Life was good.

He heard the front door open. "What did you forget Mother?" he called out. There was no answer. He finished his page and was turning to the next one when he heard:

"Happy Christmas Husband"

Mary was standing there in her winter coat and hat. Her cheeks were flushed red and she was breathing a little hard. He leapt to his feet. His heart stood still. He stared at her. He hoped his mouth was not hanging open, he couldn't tell, he was vibrating so. She turned away from him.

Over her shoulder she asked "Could you help me off with my coat?"

Still in shock Matthew walked up to her and reached his hands over her shoulders to take the sides of her coat as she unbuttoned it. He could smell her, she had a warm faint rose scent, she certainly smelled better than the last time he had smelt her. She shrugged her shoulders and the coat was in his hands. Before he could move she twirled around and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time. Do you mind if I sit down?" She didn't wait for an answer, she sat where Matthew had been sitting. She picked up his book and looked at it.

Matthew thought he heard her give a mental sniff at the middle brow title. Still he did not, could not speak. He went and hung up her coat. When he came back she was nibbling on one of the chocolate biscuits.

"I hope you don't mind, I am missing dinner"

All Matthew could do was shake his head. He turned and went into the kitchen. After much clanging and banging, and what sounded like some muffled swear words, he came back into the drawing room carrying a tray. On the tray was a plate of sliced ham, a small block of cheese, some sliced bread, a pot of mustard, butter on a plate, a small bowl of pickles, a plate of sliced fruit cake, two small plates, a teacup and some utensils. He placed it on the table. He pulled out a chair and raised his eyebrows at her. She stood up, walked to the table, bringing the plate of chocolate biscuits and tea cup with her. She sat down and he pushed the chair in for her. He retrieved the pot of tea and set it on the table. He then sat down.

"I've already taken a drink out of this" she said waving his original teacup at him. "We need to talk, which means you should say things too." She smiled at him.

"Eat first" he handed her a small plate. She took it and put it down. She looked at the food. She looked at him. He sighed.

"You don't know how to make a sandwich?"

She shook her head. He made a ham and cheese sandwich for her. Butter, a little mustard.

"Would you like the crusts cut off?" She nodded.

He watched her eat. Tiny nibbles. Discrete chewing. He put some butter on the crusts and ate them. He made her a second sandwich. When she had finished that and a piece of the fruit cake she had a sip of tea and reached out a hand to him.

He moved his hand back.

She said "I want to apologize for what I said ..."

He put his hand up. "There is no more need for you to apologize than.. " She smiled at him "there is for a falcon to apologize for taking a rabbit."

She frowned. "Are you saying it is my nature?"

He shrugged. "Res ipsa loquitur"

"What?"

"It's legal Latin, 'the thing speaks for itself'".

"I am not like that!" she snapped.

"Why are you here? Is there a problem with the annulment papers? Is there something further I need to sign?"

"No. I mean ... there is no annulment."

"Why not? You would have your freedom"

"I took vows. The same ones you did. Look I love you and you love me. We can make this work,"

He was silent for a long time then "You loved me when you were mad. I loved you when you were mad. You're not mad now."

"I might not be but I still love you. I am remembering some of what you did for me. And people have told me the rest."

He sniffed. "You say you love me because people told you you loved me. You don't remember." He got up from the table. "I'll get your coat." He started moving towards the hall closet.

"Flopsy"

Matthew stopped but did not turn around.

Mary continued "Mopsy and Cottontail."

Matthew turned around. Mary was smiling at him.

"Come back and sit down" she commanded. When he did she told him "You know I don't really care for the boys' names. How about 'Wynken. Blynken and Nod'?'

"Who?"

"They're characters in a poem in a book my Grandmama sent us from New York when I was little."

"You'll have to read it to me"

"I will" and this time when she reached out for his hand he let her take it.

"Speaking of boy's names why did you name my ... our son... Matthew John?"

"I had nothing else to give him ... for his journey"

"You had your father meet him"

He looked at her. "Yes, I asked him to"

"He did"

They were both silent for a long time.

"Is Matthew John going to be a problem for us?"

"No, never. You... we can cherish his memory. But..."

"But?"

"Not the original thing. That must be locked away. You can never say or do anything to remind me of it."

"I promise... Does that mean we can go forward?"

"There is still the matter of .. ah... your need for excitement...what happens when you get bored or.."

She stared at him. "You think I'm a slut! My parents, Grannie, your mother and you! You all think I'm a slut!" and when he started to shrug his shoulders she screamed at him "And don't say res ipsa whatever!" She glared at him. "Look! When Pamuk.."

"Stop!" he yelled "Not two minutes ago you promised to never remind me of him and now you.."

"Shut up! If you want to know what I'm going to do in the future you have to know what I did in the past!" she shouted back at him.

At some point they had both stood up. They were almost nose to nose.

"Pamuk showed up at my bedroom door. I don't know he got there. I did not invite him. He propositioned me. I didn't scream. I should have but I didn't. He didn't force me. I let him do it. I consented. And it hurts that I threw away everything I was taught, everything I believed. It hurts that I was so stupid and reckless!" She punctuated this by stabbing him in the chest with her finger.

Matthew could not look her in the eyes. He tried to sidle away but she matched every move he made. She stayed in his face. Her eyes were black as coal and her face was on fire.

"I have only done it once - and it hurt" she jabbed in him in the chest again.

"And he died on me – and that hurt". Jab!

"My mother and Anna had to help me cover it up and we had to lie to everyone about it – and that hurt" Jab!

He backed away, she followed.

"I got pregnant – that hurt" Jab!

"I lost my friend because he was forced into marrying me – that still hurts" Jab! Jab!

"My groom deserted me at the altar – that still hurts" Jab! Jab!

"I got sick – that hurt" Jab! Jab!

"My baby died – that still really hurts" Jab! Jab! Jab!

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She had him backed up right against the wall. She has pounding on his chest now with her fist.

"And my husband took care of me in the most loving way possible and I sent him away – and that hurts right now" Pound!

She pounded one last time on his chest and then dropped her head against it. His chest hurt. He hugged her hard to him.

He rubbed her back "It's OK" he murmured. It's OK"

She leaned back so she could look at him. "It will be OK. I will never betray you, I'm not like that." She stared into his eyes waiting for his response.

He kissed her. She tasted of tears. "I know." He hugged her until her breathing calmed down. Then he took her into the bathroom, wet a towel and washed her face.

She smiled at him. "Thanks, I have to go...not home, I mean I have to..."

He smiled back at her "I can assist you, I can even wipe your.."

She laughed and pointed at the door. "Out"

-0-

They were on the sofa, cuddled together under a throw, the chocolate biscuits long eaten, when Isobel came home.

"How was your party Mother?" Matthew asked.

"Very nice thanks. Are you staying over Mary?"

"No tonight" Mary answered.

"Then you had better think about heading home. It's still snowing. Is Branson coming for you?"

"No, I'm walking"

"With me" Matthew put in.

"Then you'd better get a move on. Good night all" and Isobel headed up the stairs.

When Matthew was helping her on with her coat Mary remembered what was in her pocket. She pulled out a small package and handed it to Matthew. "Merry Christmas. Go on open it."

He opened it. It was a book by Mark Twain 'The Innocents Abroad'. He smiled at her.

"I thought you might enjoy it on your travels"

He held up a finger and then headed up the stairs. A moment later he came back downstairs with a small rectangular box. He gave it to Mary.

She opened the box. Inside was a pair of gold earrings shaped like four leaf clovers.

"I thought you could use some good luck this coming year"

She kissed him

As they walked along in the dark, there was no moon, just starlight on the fresh white snow. They did not talk.

Finally as they were approaching the Abbey she asked "What now?"

He stopped just before the door and pulled her to him. "It is my intention to court you. Properly."

"And how long is that going to take?"

"It depends on much resistance you put up. No more than a year. Then – if I am of a mind to, I will get down on one knee and ask you if you want to stay married. If you say 'Yes" we will be married. Properly"

"And if you are not of a mind to?"

"Or if you say 'No" or equivocate then the marriage will be annulled and you will never see me again." He stared at her hard. "Deal?"

She thought about it. "Deal."

"Should we shake on it?"

"Kiss"

And they kissed a kiss that took them both to that final kiss at their wedding.

"Do you have to go away again so soon?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so, my present employer is not that tolerant of absence. But I will be back from time to time."

"And who exactly is your employer?"

"I can't say just yet."

"But you're here until Sunday" He nodded. "So will you come to the Servants' Ball?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not up to that just yet. Look we'll see each other every day. Tomorrow would you take me to the cemetery? I'd like to see Matthew John's headstone"

She looked at him. He was sincere, she was sure of it. "Yes" and she pulled his head down to kiss him goodnight. Properly.


	18. The Man In Me

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Matumbi is recommended_

The Man In Me

Thursday, April 2, 1914

It was only Violet and Isobel for tea, Mary having gone to Ripon with her mother and sisters for the final fittings of their gowns. Sybil's ball was coming up on April 24th.

"Do you suppose vultures ever get tired of waiting for something to die and just go out and kill something?" Violet asked.

Isobel almost sprayed out the sip of tea she had just taken. "Pardon me?"

"Waiting for those two" it could of have only been Mary and Matthew she was referring to "to do something is like waiting for plaster to dry." Violet took a sip of tea "We should do something to move things along"

What's this 'we' business? Isobel thought and then asked "What do you have in mind?" knowing in the devious mind across the table there was indeed a plan.

"Matthew must attend Sybil's ball"

"He wouldn't even go to the Servants' Ball and you want him to face the cream of society?"

"He will have to have a good reason of course. We will tell him that people are starting to say that the marriage is a sham, that there is no husband, so he has to make an appearance in public to dispel those rumours"

"Goodness, are people really saying that?"

"Heavens no, Mary's problem is so last year." Violet gave Isobel a sharp look. "Neither of them have to know that"

Isobel nodded. "I assume we do not tell Mary he is coming"

"Why not... " Violet paused and looked at Isobel and then smiled at her. "Oh I see what you mean, her surprise will heighten the effect. We are going to make a fairy godmother out of you yet."

"I'm glad you see it like that because we are going to have to make a lightening day trip to Manchester to convince Prince Charming to attend the ball."

"We?"

"Your intimidating presence would be useful"

Friday, April 24, 1914

Mary had not wanted to go to the ball. But it had been pointed out that her absence would be an insult to Sybil, and she could see the truth of that, so here she was, an artificial smile fixed on her face, sitting with the widows and others whose husbands were somewhere else.

She found herself tapping her foot to the music. She would like to dance but who would ask her? Her father, doing his duty to dance with each of his daughters. But who else? No one that she cared to dance with. She wanted to dance but there was only one partner whom would do. She sighed.

Sybil was having a great time, she had a big grin on her face as she danced by where Mary was sitting. Sybil has dancing with a tall blond soldier in scarlet mess kit and Sybil was making hand gestures at Mary which Mary could not decipher. Was she asking who it was? Mary couldn't see his face, although she felt she knew who he was. Was she bragging that she had bagged a keeper? Mary couldn't tell. The music stopped and Sybil took the soldier's arm as they circulated around the ballroom, away from Mary. Mary watched them until they out of sight on the other side of the crowd.

Mary heard the chair beside her scrape back and someone sit down. She did not turn around, she did not want to chat, maybe if she ignored them they would go away. Then a male voice, very close to her ear, so close the warm air of his words gave her goosebumps said:

"I've done my duty and danced with the belle of the ball and now my dance card is blank. Do you think I could dance away the rest of the night with my wife?"

Mary smiled but she did not turn around."I think it very likely that you will"

The music started again, a waltz, and Mary felt a hand on her back and she stood up. As she turned she put up her arms and Matthew took her in his.

Mary realized that Matthew was the soldier Sybil had been dancing with. "Why are you dressed up like a soldier?"

He smiled at her. "There are two possibilities. Either I mistakenly thought this was a fancy dress ball or I really am a.."

"Soldier" Mary finished for him. She frowned at him. "That's where you've been hiding"

"'Hiding' has such negative connotations, let's just say I have decided to pursue a career outside Downton"

"But.. but will the family think?"

"My mother wasn't too happy; your father seems to be overjoyed, following in his footsteps after all; and your mother and grandmother give me the impression that it is a much more suitable profession for the heir of Grantham than the law."

"Well I don't like it one bit. Father is going to have to speak to his friend Freddy in the War Office and get you released."

"I fear it's too late for that."

"What do you mean too late?" Mary lost the rhythm of the dance and Matthew had to lead her back to it.

"Don't tell anyone, and I especially mean any of our family, because if you do I may be shot, but we are preparing for war. It's just a matter of time. So I would be caught up in it anyway, I might as well get in at the start."

"But what about me?"

"There is nothing more honourable than a war widow" and he smiled at her.

"Don't even joke about that" she said through clenched teeth.

They danced in silence until the music ended and then she took his arm and they progressed around the room waiting for the next dance. As they walked she could hear a ripple of gossip run with them. 'Look at that', 'Is that her husband?' "The one who seduced her and got her in trouble?' 'That her father ran out of Downton?' 'She lost the baby you know' 'It looks like all is forgiven' 'I thought he was a solicitor or something' 'He certainly is quite dashing' (although Mary may have been thinking this herself). Throughout Mary preened and Matthew smiled confidently at these people who were all unknown to him.

When they started the next dance he whispered in her ear "Let's enjoy the moment. This is the second act of our courtship' and he held her a little closer than propriety might agree with.

"The second act?"

"The first was at Christmas. We were introduced, we talked, we liked what we saw and heard. Now we are seeing if we move well together. And I think we do" and he bent his head closer and kissed her on the ear.

She could fell herself blushing. She was glad she had a corset on, she imagined what his right hand would feel like if there were only silk separating it from her back, what her breasts would feel like, grazing against his chest, what his.. She whispered back "I need some air, let's go out on the balcony" and she took his arm and steered towards it. She knew there were a hundred eyes on them and she did not care.

It was cold on the balcony in the April night. Mary almost regretted her decision to go out when Matthew put his arms around her and hugged her to him.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time ..." he whispered in her ear and then he kissed her "and that even more"

After several delightful moments Mary broke away from Matthew. "Enough of that, the only way off this balcony is through that ballroom, and we are going have to face those busybodies. So compose yourself. If you behave yourself maybe afterwards we can steal away upstairs and ... " and she lowered her voice so he could hardly hear it "and make this a real marriage"

Matthew sighed. "I should have told you. I'm Officer of the Guard tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. In Manchester. As soon as the ball is over Branson is taking me to Euston Station to catch the Night Mail."

She pouted. He reached up and tugged her lower lip. "Quit that. Didn't your mother ever tell you if you did that your face would grow like that.?" He let go.

She smiled "And Grannie, and Carson too. You know in a way this is our wedding anniversary."

Yes I remember" He smiled at her. "I have a present for you in my suitcase"

"But I didn't get anything for you. I didn't know you were coming"

"As we say in the law 'ignorance is no excuse" he gave her a mock frown "I sentence you to three hundred sixty five kisses"

"That is a lot of kisses"

"If you can't do the time don't do the crime"

"Well we had better get started then"

Some time later he held out his arm to her. "Let's go face the Golden Horde" and then, just as they were walking through the door he whispered to her in his most seductive voice "be patient, when we finally do it it will be well worth the wait." and the watchers saw her blushing as she entered the ballroom.

-0-

Mary did not think she had smiled so much at one time in her whole life. She was waiting for Matthew to return with some champagne when Evelyn Napier walked up to her.

"Lady Mary. I must say you appear to be in fine form tonight"

"Evelyn. I am. And you?"

"I am well, thank you. And this must be your husband"

Mary looked towards Matthew. He was frowning. What was wrong? He walked up to them.

"Matthew, you remember Evelyn Napier don't you?"

Matthew gave Evelyn a curt nod. "I remember him very well indeed." he handed Mary a flute of champagne. And then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Mary watched dumbfounded as Matthew walked across the ballroom floor and went out onto the balcony.

"What was that all about?" asked Evelyn.

"Excuse me" Mary said and she followed Matthew.

Matthew let the cool air dissipate his rage. He drained his champagne in one gulp, thought better of hurling the flute into the darkness, and carefully balanced it on the sloped top of the balustrade. He heard someone enter the balcony behind him. He knew it was her. He did not turn around.

Mary grabbed him by the arm and made him turn around. "Just what do you think you're doing cutting Evelyn like that! He is one of my oldest friends! You march right back in there and apologize to him!" She was panting with anger.

He stared at her with cold blue eyes. "Your friend Evelyn introduced you to his friend Pamuk, did he not? That's where I remember him from." He turned away from her and stared into the London night. Over his shoulder he said "Our deal was that you wouldn't do and say anything to remind me."

She drew in her breath "So I am to live in fear that any little thing is going to set you off..."

He turned back and hissed at her through clenched teeth "That introduction was not a little thing, for all I know your friend procured you for his friend".

"You don't know that!"

"And neither do you!"

"That's not fair! Even after I told you how it happened!"

"So how did Pamuk know which room was yours?"

"It might have been one of the servants" She glared at him and he glared back.

"It might not be fair but that's the way it is. Look I'm sorry but I'm not a saint, I can forget it only if I'm not reminded about it. I will not hold you to the deal if it is too much for you. An annulment is still an option. Go talk to your friend." He turned away from her.

"So I have to choose between you and him?"

"Yes"

She came and stood beside his left side, close but not quite touching. They stood like that until he sensed her shivering. He put his arm around and pulled her close to him. He whispered into her hair. "I want to make this work. It won't be any little thing that sets me off. This was just too direct a reminder to me. But I have to warn you, even leaving aside that incident, jealousy is one of my demons; when I'm ninety I'll still be shaking my stick at any codger of seventy who dares make eyes at you."

Mary sighed. She had known about his dark side. Seeing it tonight again had made her afraid. Not afraid of being hit, or even being called names, which hadn't happened. No she had been afraid of losing him. Hard decisions had to be made. Goodbye old friend. She looked up at Matthew. "I choose you".

-0-

Matthew and Mary danced the rest of the night away. But it was not the joyous dancing of earlier. This was an intense communion of their bodies. They did not smile, they hardly talked, when the music paused they walked arm in arm around the floor; they talked to no one else; they did not acknowledge the existence of the other guests; there was just them and the music.

Cora thought their behaviour rude and impolite. She wanted to break them up and have them mingle. Violet would have none of that. Leave them be, they need this. And so they were.

The task of telling them that the ball was over was delegated to Carson. They had continued slow dancing in a corner of the ballroom even though the orchestra had finished playing ten minutes before.

"Excuse me Lt.. Crawley, Mrs. Crawley?"

They looked at him.

"Branson is waiting to take Lt. Crawley to his train. There is only enough time for Lt. Crawley to change"

"Change?" Mary asked.

"I'm not wearing this rig on the train. I'm going to change into mufti" answered Matthew.

"I'll act as your valet" Carson indicated.

"No I will" declared Mary.

"But my Lady you're ..."

"His wife"

Carson bowed to this superior position.

"Which bedroom is he using?"

"The guest bedroom in the north west corner"

"Come on" Mary grabbed Matthew's hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

-0-

As soon as they got to the bedroom Matthew started stripping down. He handed the things he was taking off to Mary. "Just throw them in the suitcase, my batman can sort them out later."

When he was naked from the waist up Matthew took off his dress shoes and socks. He started to unbutton his fly. He saw Mary staring at him. "Turn around" he motioned at her.

"I am your wife. I can watch. After all you've seen me naked."

"Under different circumstances. And I'll tell you it wasn't that pleasant a view." He thought she'd laugh at his little witticism. She didn't. He looked at her. She had a feral look he found vaguely alarming. "So this is tit for tat?"

"More like teat for that" she motioned at his middle and licked her lips. "Do you need help with the buttons?"

"No...no" Matthew took off his slacks and handed them to Mary. Without looking she threw them in the general direction of his suitcase.

"Now those" she gestured at his smalls.

"I..ah ...ah was going to keep wearing these."

"Take them off. I want to see."

"Mary! We don't have time! If I don't show up for guard duty they'll shoot me!" Matthew didn't really think so but he was desperate.

"There's enough time for me to see. Now do you need help taking them off?"

Matthew glared at her. He stepped back, bent over and pulled them off. He stood up.

She looked him up and down and middle. He could feel his body reacting. He dared not look down.

"Turn around" she said in a strangled voice. After a moment she said "Turn back". When Matthew did she was standing right in front of him. With her right hand she reached down and grabbed him. He gasped. She reached up with her left hand and grabbed his head and then she kissed him as hard as she could. Matthew reached down with both hands and grabbed her bottom. He started pulling up her dress. He had a sudden need to grip bare flesh. He pulled up so hard she had to move her hands to his back to keep her balance and her legs, of their own volition, wrapped themselves around his middle. There was a sound of ripping silk. Matthew carried Mary over to the bed and dropped with her onto it, just missing the open suitcase. He slid a hand up her leg and under her knickers and then found her centre. He touched her. She quivered... There was a sharp knock on the door. They froze.

"Three minutes Lt. Crawley"

In as calm a voice as he could muster Matthew called out. "Thank you Carson. I'll be right down." Matthew leaned his forehead against Mary's and chuckled. "Sorry, darling. Next time there will be more time."

He gave her a tender kiss and then he leapt up and dressed in record time. She sat on the bed watching him with a wistful look on her face. He took a small package out of his suitcase, stuffed the rest of his gear into the suitcase and then snapped it shut. He handed the package to Mary. "Happy anniversary"

Mary stood up.

"I should walk you down" she put her hands up and adjusted his quickly knotted tie.

"Not looking like that" and he gestured at the mirror.

She looked. Her hair was coming down and her dress looked like she had slept in it. Which in a way is what she had tried to do. "Yes I look quite a fright." She gripped his lapels "When will I see you again?"

"Your father has invited me to the garden party in August. With any luck I should be able to finagle a week's leave. That should make for a good start on a honeymoon. Now I've got to go"

She stared at him. Honeymoon?

He gave her a quick kiss and was out the door. She could hear him clatter down the stairs, say something to Carson, Carson rumbled something back and then there was the thud of the main door closing. He was gone.

She sat on the bed again and opened the package. Inside was a book of Robert Browning's love poetry. Inside the cover Matthew had written:

_'Darling Mary,_

_I feel like I have survived a mighty storm at sea and only now have gained the safety of the cove. I know that there is still beach and fields to traverse but my fondest wish is that you will be there at the farm to meet me. And we will be truly married._

_Love Matthew'_

She read the inscription again. Farm? She had not bought their farm yet. Then she saw there was a narrow ribbon in the book. She opened the book to it. It marked the poem 'Meeting at Night'. She read it. She smiled. I'll light the match she promised.


	19. Blowin' In The Wind

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Neil Young, sound effects and all, is recommended._

_The following storey contains adult themes and depictions of violence. Reader discretion is advised._

Blowin' In The Wind

Tuesday, August 4, 1914

Mary kept glancing around, worried that she had missed Matthew's arrival at the garden party. Every new arrival was scrutinized and found wanting. Where was he? In his last letter, received a fortnight ago, he said he was coming. Where was he? There should have been two more letters since then. Since Sybil's ball they had been exchanging weekly letters. Why hadn't he written? Where was he? Had he been injured in all this training he had told her they were doing, or worse killed? Where was he? This week was supposed to be their honeymoon. She wanted him. She needed him. She felt like stamping her foot.

She walked over to Isobel. "Have you heard from Matthew?" This was only the fourth time in the last six hours she had asked. Isobel shook her head. Mary could tell her mother-in-law was anxious as well.

"No, not all" Isobel reached out and took Mary's hand. "I'm sure he's OK. Something must have come up. He'll let us know what's happening"

Just then they heard Robert calling out for everyone's attention. They turned towards him. He was waving a piece of paper over his head.

Sunday, August 9, 1914

On the tenth Sunday of Ordinary Time Company C of the Second Battalion of The Manchester Regiment, part of the British Expeditionary Force, landed in France. Second Lieutenant Matthew Crawley was at war.

Saturday, August 29, 1914

Matthew watched the rabbit, maybe a hare?, through his binoculars. It was not eating. It was alert, long ears twitching. Finally it could not stand the tension any further and it hopped off. Run rabbit run Matthew thought, if I was a rabbit I'd run too. He shifted the focus of the binoculars up the road. Nothing distinct yet but he could see a cloud of dust in the distance.

He had been walking backwards from Mons almost two weeks and two hundred miles now. He and Sergeant Harper were the only members of Company C still left. All the rest were dead, wounded (and it took two able bodied men to take a casualty back, stretcher bearers who did not always return to the fight), captured or possibly deserted, although he didn't know to where anything bigger than a rabbit could run.

Company C and Company D had been tasked with acting as the rearguard on one of the secondary roads, cow trails really, which paralleled the main roads heading west from Mons. A Bavarian regiment had been tasked as their opposition, acting as the vanguard of the German secondary advance.

The two companies had played leap frog. One harassing the Germans while the other retreated. But the constant irregular fighting had taken its toll.

He and Harper were supposed to meet up with the remnants of Company D in this little village, 'Saint Pierre and the goats' or some such but when they had arrived twenty minutes ago they found it deserted. Deserted that is except for a solitary Royal Engineer, Lt. Thomas Silverfish, as he introduced himself, who was busily wiring the bridge across the small tributary of the Marne which flowed past the village.

Matthew asked the obvious question "Where in the hell is everyone?"

"They were ordered to abandon their positions here and fall back farther west."

Matthew asked the obvious follow up question "So why in the hell are you still here?"

"I thought I'd blow this bridge first."

"Well don't let us stop you. Blow it and let's get out of here. There's a horde of Bavarians heading this way with unfriendly intent."

"Thing is I need an hour to do the job properly. I want to drop the bridge into the river so it can't be repaired. Then they'll have to throw up a temporary bridge, which should slow them down for three – four hours."

Matthew looked at Harper who shook his head. "We can give you forty minutes easy, it'll take them that long to get here. The last twenty minutes will be iffy. I've only got a drum and a half left for my Lewis gun. Sgt. Harper here has what? Seven rounds left for his sniper rifle and maybe two dozen for his Lee-Enfield."

"Sniper rifle? Where'd you get that? I didn't know we issued them" Lt. Silverfish asked.

"No, but the German Army does" answered Harper "They lent me this one for a trial"

"I see. Spoils of war eh? Anyway I better get back to work. Any time you can buy me would be appreciated" and the Engineer went back to running his wires.

Matthew looked at Harper. They both shrugged at the same time. "Well let's see if we can round up something to eat while we wait."

-0-

Matthew sat in the easternmost house of the village watching the grey column march up the road. Any time now they would be Harper's range. He was in the top of the church tower. Seven shots, hopefully seven kills, then he was going to scamper back to the bridge and cover Matthew's retreat. He was under strict orders to blow his whistle as soon as Lt. Silverfish was ready to blow the bridge and then Matthew was out of here. Matthew watched through his binoculars and waited.

He was trying to remember what the German was for field mice, feldmaus maybe? The German troops certainly looked like a column of field mice marching up the road in their dusty grey uniforms He saw the only officer riding a horse pitch out of the saddle. Then he heard the crack of Harper's rifle. One. The troops scattered into the barley crop on either side of the road. A couple of the men remained standing waving their arms at the men hiding in the crop. Sergeants probably, trying to rally their men. Matthew knew what they were yelling. Get up. Charge into the village. You're safer there. You're going to be slaughtered out here in the open. Get up! Go! And they were right - if Matthew had a Vickers machine gun and a squad of men at his disposal. If only. Two of the gesturing men went down in quick succession. Two. Three. Kill the senior officers and the sergeants, leave the lieutenants trying to run things. The famous German discipline was kicking in, the troops were up and coming on the double. Four, Five and Six. Matthew wondered if he had missed one then Seven went down. Now Harper would be charging down the steps of the tower and then heading to the bridge. His turn. He put his binoculars back in their case. He had asked Harper once how he knew which of his targets were officers. Harper had replied that he just shot at anyone who had a binocular case around his neck.

Matthew rested the barrel of the Lewis gun on the window sill. Short bursts. Start low on the left side of the line because the barrel would ride up and to the right. Fire and move. Fire and move. There were three windows on the east side of the house. Left window then middle window and then double back to the left window because those methodical Germans would be expecting him to pop up in the right window. Then out the back door to the next house and repeat as required.

Matthew lost track of the time. He was in his fourth house, down to his last half drum of ammunition, starting to worry about being flanked when he heard the whistle. One last burst and then he was zigzagging down the street heading for the bridge. He could feel rather than hear bullets zinging past him, something tugged at his left arm and then he was across and he could see Harper motioning for him to hit the ground. He dove with the Lewis gun cradled in his arms. He hit with an oomph and then the shock wave hit him and he was enveloped in a cloud of dust. He felt someone grab his arm and drag him up and the next thing he knew he was leaning against the wall of a building trying to get his breath back.

Matthew heard someone laughing.

It was Lt. Silverfish. "God, I love blowing things up" he cackled.

Behind him Harper made a circular motion with his finger against the side of his head.

Matthew nodded. "Let's get out of here". And they did.

Tuesday, October 13, 1914

Matthew leaned against his pack trying to write a letter to Mary. He was dead tired. He could barely think let alone write. What to say? In the past two and half months he had fought in three major battles, marched 250 miles into Belgium and then retreated almost all the way back and to top it all off had helped dig up more of France than every badger that had ever existed had ever done.

He couldn't tell her about the killing. He had killed; almost been killed; saw men killed in every way men could be killed. Before the first time he had gone into action he had worried he wouldn't be able to kill; now he worried he could kill so easily. He did not enjoy it, he took no pleasure in it, it had to be done and he did it. Unlike some other men he did not obsess about it. For some reason he remembered Cousin Violet's old Siamese cat, Turandot. Mary and her sisters had been amazed how the cat had taken to him. He now realized why. One killer had recognized another. Professional courtesy. He sighed.

A shadow fell across his page. He looked up. It was Major, no Colonel, Flashman. Matthew got up on his feet and saluted.

There was no long drawn greeting from the Colonel "Crawley go find Sgt. Harper and the two of you meet me in my office" he waved vaguely at the chateau in the distance "in an hour. You two are working for me now" and then he was gone.

An hour later Matthew and Harper were standing at attention in front of Col. Flashman's desk. He motioned for them to sit down. He got right into it. "Now that you've had a taste of trench warfare I'm sure you will be happy to learn that the two of you have been transferred to an unit I am running for Section One of Military Intelligence. MI1 breaks German codes" He looked at them like that explained everything.

It didn't. "Begging the Colonel's pardon" started Matthew "but what would MI1 want with us? I really can't see us counting the number of 'e's in intercepted messages"

The Colonel smiled at him like he had just spelled the last word correctly in a spelling bee. "You are correct. It would be a waste of your particular talents to have you two toiling in a back room somewhere over letter frequencies. Happily there is a faster way to break German codes. I'm going to have you, and a band of cutthroats I am recruiting to assist you, steal code books from the Germans."

Both Matthew and Harper stared at the Colonel. They both thought 'Steal? That means we're going to have to...' They both concluded that maybe trench warfare wasn't that bad after all.

Thursday, October 29, 1914

Mary and Isobel were comparing Matthew's letters to them. These were the second letters they had received him since the start of the war. The first ones were short ones, scribbled by him just after he had landed in France, basically apologizing for not making it to Downton for the garden party 'but he had been called away on business'.

Isobel was grateful he lived, he could write a letter, he was alive.

Mary wanted more. She waved her letter at Isobel. "We know there have been battles, there has been the Great Retreat. It's been in all the papers and he makes it sound like he 'and the lads' have been on some kind of bucolic hike through the French countryside. 'He missed the worst of it.' What does that mean? How bad was the action he was in? What does he mean he's been transferred? To where?" She huffed.

Isobel patted Mary on the arm. "He doesn't want you to worry"

"But I do. I want to comfort him and it's hard to do that when he is so cryptic".

"You'll be able to comfort him in person when he gets some leave. Whenever that is; it doesn't look good for Christmas though."


	20. Man of Peace

_A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Joe Perry is recommended._

Man of Peace

Easter Sunday, April 4, 1915

As the ladies were sitting in the drawing room waiting for the Earl and his male guests to come through Mary toyed with the locket Matthew had sent her for Christmas.

"Mary, why don't you come back with me to London?" asked Rosamund "I know that the Season has been truncated but there are still a few dinners and such. After this deary winter you could use a little excitement."

Mary looked at her aunt and then her mother who gave a small shrug and a nod of encouragement.

"Why thank you, I'd like that" answered Mary.

Thursday, April 8, 1915

Mary and her aunt were attending a dinner party at the Rundles, Mr. Rundle having been a friend and business associate of her aunt's late husband.

They were just about to proceed into the dining room when a late arriving guest was announced.

Mary considered the new comer. He appeared to be in his middle forties, handsome, with a slight cruel turn to his mouth. He surveyed the crowd like a tiger surveying a herd of cattle. He saw her looking at him and he gave her a small nod and started coming towards to her. She gave a small start.

Her aunt greeted the man like a old friend. "Sir Richard! I am so glad to see you made it. Let me introduce you to my niece, Sir Richard Carlisle, may I present my niece, Lady Mary Crawley. Mary, Sir Richard is a great newspaper magnate."

Mary held up her hand and Sir Richard took it and gave a short bow over it. Still holding onto Mary's hand he said "I am so glad to meet you, your aunt has told me so much about you."

"She has?" Mary gave her aunt a look and withdrew her hand from Sir Richard's grasp.

Dinner was called and Sir Richard offered Mary his arm and she had no choice but to take it.

It turned out that Sir Richard was her dinner partner. "Pray tell what did my aunt tell you about me?" Mary asked.

He smiled at her. "Oh nothing bad. Simply that in addition to being a remarkable beauty, you were also intelligent and had a quick wit."

Mary could not help but feel flattered; it had been so long, years really, since anyone had flirted with her. Sir Richard was a very enjoyable dinner companion, he had a great store of political gossip, and he entertained her with stories of the foibles of those running the government.

-0-

During the ride home after the dinner Rosalind interrupted Mary's pleasant reverie. "I'm glad you got on so well with Sir Richard. He'll make an excellent catch."

"Just in general, or did you have someone in mind?" asked Mary.

Her aunt patted her on the knee. "Why for you my dear. He was clearly smitten"

Mary stared at her shocked. "Aunt you forget I am a married woman!"

"Really? You entered into that farce of wedding to save your honour. Well there's no child, you and your so called husband have never even lived together, and it's time you got an annulment and got on with your life. Sir Richard is a rich and powerful man. Married to him you would be the doyenne of London Society. He is a sophisticated man, he won't hold your premarital dalliance against you."

Mary gaped. Where to start? "I repeat I am a married woman!" She could feel herself getting shrill. "I love Matthew. And I owe him so much, my life, my honour. ..."

"So give him a medal, that doesn't mean you have to be tied to him forever"

"I just can't throw him over because you feel I can better myself with.."

Her aunt was not backing down. "If this Matthew means so much to you tell me .. when did you first think of him tonight?"

Mary was trapped. She had not thought of Matthew until now, she had been so charmed by Sir Richard.

Rosamund pressed her advantage. "See, he isn't in your thoughts that much, is he? You must be practical, you aren't a a silly virgin anymore, you must take a hard look at your future. Money and power now or what? Countess someday and until then the society of a country solicitor; that is if he survives the war" She sniffed. "I know who I would choose. Think about it. Just be wary of Sir Richard, he is a dangerous man; don't let him seduce you into becoming his mistress. Hold out for marriage after the annulment."

Mary turned away from her aunt and stared out the window. They did not speak for the rest of the ride.

Monday, April 12, 1915

Mary once again was going out to dinner with her aunt. This time at Rosamund's friends, the Logans. And once again she found her dinner partner on her left was Sir Richard Carlisle. She found this to be very disconcerting. Especially since the day before had been her second wedding anniversary.

After Rosamund's injunction to think of Sir Richard as a future husband, she had spent the whole weekend, as Matthew would call it, trying hard not to think of him, but thoughts of him kept creeping back into her mind. In a foolish moment she had dredged up that list of qualities she wanted in a husband and she had to admit, on a purely mercantile basis, Sir Richard beat Matthew hands down; his money and power trumping everything that Matthew had to offer now, maybe ever. But she loved Matthew. She did love Matthew, didn't she? It was almost a year since she had seen him. They say war changed people, would she still love him when he came back? But even if she didn't love him, she was married to him; she would honour her vows, she would forsake Sir Richard no matter how attractive he might prove to be. She was not that kind of woman, she was not a, Lord how she hated the word, she was not a slut.

So Mary turned to her dinner companion. "Why Sir Richard what a coincidence, we dine together again"

"Yes, a most welcome happenstance Lady Mary but it is no coincidence. I arranged it." He gave her a smug smile "I trust you have been well."

Mary recoiled internally. "Yes, thank you, and you?"

"I am very well, thank you" They smiled at each other. Sir Richard's smile was genuine, Mary's somewhat more superficial.

"Sir Richard, I fear my aunt may have confused you with her introduction of me the other day. Crawley is both my maiden name and my married name. My husband is presently with the army in France." Mary played with her wedding ring with her thumb.

"Lady Rosamund was quite clear about your present status and your devotion to your husband. It is admirable that he is in France sacrificing his life for King and Country.."

Mary had frowned when Sir Richard had used the word 'present' as if he were implying her married status were only temporary and now she hissed at him "You speak as if he were dead already"

"Please forgive me. I did not mean to alarm you but I have seen the casualty lists and the fact of the matter is that the life expectancy of a junior officer in the front lines is less than that of a mayfly. Perhaps your husband is with the quartermaster corps or some other rear echelon outfit?"

Mary shook her head. Her father had found out from his friend Freddie in the War Office that Matthew had been transferred to Military Intelligence, and not the part of MI that sits around in offices and reads reports either.

Sir Richard adopted a sympathetic tone "So I am afraid if this war continues for any length of time, and it looks to be stalemated for now, at some point you will suffer bereavement. I know it is small consolation but you have so much going for you that you will not remain a widow for long." It was all Sir Richard could do to refrain from reaching over and patting Mary's hand. The seed had been planted, let it grow. He looked across the table at Lady Rosamund who gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

-0-

Later that evening, when the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies, Mary tried to put Sir Richard on the defensive. "Tell me Sir Richard why you are not in uniform."

It did not work. He smiled at her with affection, the smile you would give a child who was trying, but not succeeding, in mastering some adult concept, such as the need for the excise tax on candy. "We also serve who stand and publish. We keep morale up at home. And don't think for a moment that my newspapers blindly parrot the government's propaganda. We were against entry into the war; now that we are in the war; we are in favour of swiftly winning it with an absolute minimum loss of life and treasure. In fact we are about to start a series of articles about the government's shameful and shocking failure to supply our troops with an adequate number of artillery shells. It may bring down the government. And rightfully so..."

Sir Richard was the most animated Mary had seen him. His eyes were flashing and his speech was faster and slightly higher. The hint of brogue was more pronounced. She could feel herself becoming excited in response to his excitement.

He saw her open mouthed look and he grinned at her. "Pardon me for getting carried away. Since I turned fourteen newspapers have been my life but for a long time they have just been my business. Then once in a blue moon a storey like this comes along and my passion is rekindled. But only for awhile and then the storey runs its course and then... well then it's back to my workaday existence. I miss that passion and I am starting to think that I shouldn't be looking for it at the office. That passion is pent up at home waiting for the right lady to release it. And I think that I may have found that lady" He stared at her and licked his lips

Mary found herself trapped in that predator's gaze. She could not look away. She wanted to move closer to him, put her arms up, surrender. If they had not been in a crowded drawing room she surely would have. If they were to meet out in the hall, away from everyone else like she had with ... Pamuk!

She blinked. The spell was broken. She looked away "Excuse me Sir Richard, I feel a headache coming on, I really must find my aunt so we can go home." She hurried away before he could say anything.

-0-

"You and Sir Richard had quite the tete-a-tete going on in the corner" Rosamund commented on the ride home "What about?"

Mary kept looking at the window "He was just telling me about some articles he is going to be running in his newspapers"

"Well they must be quite the steamy articles; the way you two were looking at each other I expected you to start going at it notwithstanding the crowd of spectators"

Mary flushed with guilt, she could not reply.

Her aunt prattled on "I am glad that you are warming up to him. The two of you would be the top couple in London society." She patted Mary's knee. "Just remember my advice, don't give it away this time, insist on getting married first"

"You forget I'm already married" Mary snapped.

"A mere technicality. And anyway it's obvious you've forgotten also. Two dinners with Sir Richard and each time you forget about old what's his name, you know the one I mean, the husband you've never actually lived with. I think there's a pattern developing here."

"Then I will break the pattern, tonight was the last time I dine with Sir Richard!"

"I don't think so, I have agreed that Wednesday next we will act as Sir Richard's hostesses at a dinner he is giving."

"Speak for yourself, I will not be in attendance!"

"We'll see"


	21. I Want You

_A/N: This storey deals with mature themes and may be offensive to some readers. I'm not going to have to start carding you am I?_

_The versions of the chapter title song by James Blunt and Ximena Sarinana are recommended._

I Want You

Wednesday, April 21, 1915

Rosamund used every trick she had to get Mary to agree to act as Sir Richard's hostess. She cajoled 'think of how exciting it will be, Lloyd George is supposed to be attending"; she bribed 'I will give you that ivory cameo that was your great grandmother's'; she begged 'I promised Sir Richard, if you don't come he will be so angry with me'; she reasoned 'this is an excellent chance to learn the art of being hostess without any responsibility'; she flattered 'I know you have a natural talent, you'll do such a good job'; she wheedled 'This is the best way to avoid Sir Richard, a host and hostess never see each other at a party'; until she finally wore Mary down.

There was much planning to do. They did not meet with Sir Richard; providing them with the guest list was the extent of his preparations. They meet with Sir Richard's butler and cook several times. Mary discovered that butlers had a mutual assistance pact whereby they exchanged information about guests so that dietary and drink foibles were dealt with; seating arrangements were satisfactory; and all other matter of inadvertent unpleasantness was avoided. Advertent unpleasantness was left to the hosts and guests to deal with themselves.

On the day Rosamund insisted that Mary wear her red dress. There was a jet necklace and earrings which would probably look best with it but, as a talisman, Mary decided to wear the locket and four leaf clover earrings Matthew had given her over the last two Christmases.

Rosamund and Mary arrived at Sir Richard's house early to check the arrangements were all in order. Chamberlain, Sir Richard's butler, apologized on behalf of Sir Richard, who had only got home himself, for not meeting them personally, but he was getting changed.

Minutes before the first guest arrived Sir Richard came down the stairs. They barely had time to greet each other before they were greeting the guests.

The guest list was a mix of politicians and self made business men. As Rosamund had pointed out to Mary when they had first received the list, they would be the only true gentry there. The guests were all from the middle class, or lower, and nothing more than nouveau riche. 'You watch' she had predicted 'they're so gauche, they'll talk all night about how much 'things' cost'.

Mary had intended for her aunt to take the hostess' seat directly across from Sir Richard but Rosamund out manoeuvred her and she ended up in it. To her left was the guest of honour, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, David Lloyd George, himself. He was quite charming, although a bit full of himself to Mary's taste.

During the fish course Mary felt a hand give her left thigh a small squeeze. She startled. She turned to Lloyd George and glared at him as best she could without making a scene. He smiled at her. She reached down and tried to peel up his fingers but that just encouraged him to caress her leg some more. She leaned towards and whispered "Unhand me sir! I am a married woman."

He whispered back in turn "Married women make the best lovers, they are more experienced and also more discrete. I would love to contnue this conversation in private at your convenience."

Mary flushed. She picked up her fish knife in her left hand. She whispered back "Are you right handed?"

Lloyd George looked puzzled "Yes, why do you ask?"

Mary dropped her left hand, still holding the knofe, into her lap and then pressed the point against the top of his hand. "Because if you don't immediately remove your hand I am going to drive this knife right through it and you'll never write again"

Lloyd George snatched his hand away. He grinned at her "Sir Richard certainly has himself a firecracker" and then he turned to speak to the lady on his left.

Mary looked over at Sir Richard. He was laughing. He knew what had happened and he thought it was funny. She frowned.

When dessert had been finished Rosamund and Mary shephereded the ladies into the drawing room, leaving the men to their port and cigars.

Mary ensured the ladies all had an after dinner drink of their choice and then glided from one set of conversations to another; all of which seemed to concern, as her aunt had predicted, the price of this or the price of that. She started to get irritated; this is not how she imagined what it be like to a hostess in high society; this seemed like... work. She started to appreciate what her mother went through.

When she started to wonder out loud that the gentlemen were taking a rather long time one of the political wives told her that 'it was like this all the time, sometimes the men would talk all evening and never rejoin them And this might be one of those nights, there seemed to be some sort of cabal forming' she lowered her voice 'concerning the prime minstership'. This irritated Mary more, she wanted to be involved, she wanted an equal say.

Finally at ten to eleven the gentlemen joined the ladies, but only for a moment. It seemed the political guests were leaving, only a few of the business guests were staying for a while.

Mary and Rosamund joined Sir Richard in saying goodnight.

Lloyd George held Mary's hand entirely too long, and gave it a most improper squeeze. "I look forward to meeting you again Lady Mary. Sans cutlery." he leered at her. She scowled at him as much as she dared without destroying her facade as the gracious hostess..

As they walked to the drawing room Sir Richard was exultant. "This has been a most excellent night. If all goes according to our plan, Lloyd George will be prime minister before Parliament rises this June". He saw that Mary did not share his joy. "What is wrong my dear?"

This was the final irritation for Mary. She stopped while that the others continued on. Sir Richard stopped also. They were the only ones left in the hall. "I am not your dear!" and as Sir Richard started to mumble some sort of apology she rode right over it "Didn't you see that man pawing me at dinner?"

Instead of sympathisizing, or getting angry, which is what Mary would have expected, Sir Richard just laughed at her. "You say that like it is not a good thing"

Now Mary was angry. "It is not, it is improper!"

Now Sir Richard had his back up. "Don't lecture me about propriety. I know all about your past; you are the last person who should be talking about what is proper"

Mary drew in her breath. He knew about Pamuk!

He continued on "Was it proper that you and that callow youth of yours were going at it like rabbits until you were caught out? Is that sham marriage the two of you entered into proper? I think not. You do not care any more for propriety than I do."

Mary let out her breath. He thought it was Matthew.

Richard would not let it go. "As for Lloyd George, they don't call him the Goat for nothing. He's probably bedded half the political wives who were here tonight, and the other half wish he had, all with the tacit approval of their husbands. It is not a bad thing for a couple to have the ear of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, even is that ear happens to be laying on a pillow. Although if you hold out for a few months, you can bag the ear of a prime minister"

Mary stared at him. "You would want.. encourage..your wife to...:

"Oh grow up, you're not a silly virgin anymore. If you want power and wealth you had better use whatever assets you have available. I'm not saying you have to bed the man, or even asking you to, but if you chose to do so I would not object.."

Mary huffed and pushed by him Just before she entered the drawing room Mary remembered to paste on a smile. As soon as she could she was going to roundup her aunt and leave.

Mary was just about to approach Rosamund when one of the ladies quoted " 'It is a truth univerally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife'. When is that want going to be satisfied for you Sir Richard?"

Sir Richard smiled at the guests. "Soon I hope; there is a lady whom the first time I saw her, I knew that she was the one for me; but there are certain legal entanglements that will take a little time to resolve."

Mary flushed. She knew that the gentlemen would be oblivious but she could sense more than one of the ladies appraising her. She realized that tonight she had been auditioning for the role of wife, Sir Richard was having his friends check her out.

Sir Richard went over to the mantle and picked up a flat box. "In anticipation of that happy day when she is mine I am alrady buying her gifts." and he opened the box. Inside was a beautiful ruby and diamond nacklace and matching earrings. The ladies, other than Mary, let out a collective ahh.

Someone asked "And what did those baubles set you out back?

"I don't want to say out loud in case the Inland Revenue is listening" there was nervous laughter at this "But it was a choice between buying this or half of Kent"

"Or all of Yorkshire" someone called out and there was general laughter from all except Mary.

"Why don't you have Lady Mary model them for us?" asked Rosamund.

Mary glared at her aunt. She realized she had been set up.

"I would be honoured if she would" replied Sir Richard. He held the box towards Mary.

What could she do? She was trapped. She smiled at him and put out her hand to take the box.

He pulled it back. "Let me help you. The clasp will be unfamilar to you"

Mary walked over to the mirror on the wall. She started to take off her clover leaf earrings. She felt as if she were disrobing and disnonouring her marriage vows all at once. Oh Matthew she cried out in her mind; I don't mean to; I am trapped. Sir Richard undid the clasp of the chain on her locket. She put the locket down on the table with the earrings.

He scooped them up and put them in the pocket of his waistcoat. "We don't want them to go missing" he explained when she started to protest.

As he was doing up the clasp of the ruby necklace he took liberties with his fingers, stroking the nape of her neck. She shivered. He whispered "I am sorry if I upset you earlier. I was just being practical. Look in the mirror and see what power and wealth can do for you"

Mary looked. The necklace complimented her features perfectly. She frowned and the effect was of an imperious queen.

She put on the earrings and turned to the crowd. There was another chorus of ahhs. She turned back to the mirror and started to take them off.

Sir Richard grabbed her elbow "Please wear them for the rest of the night, help break them in."

What could Mary do? She was trapped.

-0-

Mary was returning to the drawing room from a quick trip to the water closet when, just before she entered, she heard her aunt asking someone:

"Do you mind giving me a lift home tonight?"

The other person said something and her aunt replied "From the looks of it I would say my niece has made other arrangements for tonight" and then they both laughed.

That was it as far as Mary was concerned. This whole thing was degenerating into some kind of French sex farce. She was leaving.

She found the telephone, telephoned her aunt's butler and told them that her aunt was taken ill and she wanted the auto here in twenty minutes. She brooked no dissent.

She then reetered the drawing room where she was happy to see that the conversation had revolved back to the coming coup d'etat and away from Sir Richard's pending (at least in his mind) nuptials.

She walked up to Sir Richard and in a voice loud enough for her aunt to hear she told him "I sorry but my aunt has taken ill and I must take her home"

"Oh?" Sir Richard looked at Rosamund who was as puzzled as he.

"Yes, she is going through the Change, you really don't want to know the details." she gave her aunt an insincere smile.

"You don't have to leave dear, I can catch a ride with...' Rosamund started.

"I wouldn't think of it, I wouldn't think of burdening anyone else with you dear aunt.. You know how moody you can get. Besides I have already ordered your auto, it will be here in fifteen minutes." Mary went over to the mirror and started taking the earrings off.

Sir Richard came up behind and whispered "Keep them on, they are yours"

Without turning around she whispered back "Keep them for your wife, whomever she may prove to be"

She put her hands to undo the clasp of the necklace but Sir Richard beat her to it. He whispered "I was hoping that this would be the last thing I took off you tonight". He breathed on her neck and again she shivered. She hated that he could do that to her.

"If wishes were horses ..." She turned to him and held out her hand "My jewellry please"

"That gimcrack? I not sure what I did with it..."

"Look in your waistcoat pocket"

"Oh yes" and with ill grace he gave her back the locket and four leaf clover earrings. The ones Matthew had given her.

-0-

When they had their coats on and were just about to leave Sir Richard took Mary aside. He took her hand. "I know this evening has gone wrong for you somehow and I want to make it up to you. If we could just spend some time together in private I can prove my worth to you. You think I am crass and selfish but I have a passionate side that will excite you. I can make you the woman you deserve to be." He pressed a card into her hand. "This is the address of a pied-a-tere I have just off Bond Street. Tell your aunt you're going shopping with a friend and then meet me there tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock. I promise that you will enjoy what you find there".

All Mary said in response was "Goodbye Sir Richard"

-0-

On the ride back to her aunt's house Rosamund praised Mary "Except for that little snit at the end you did a brilliant job. That is the role you are born to, not the one being a country solicitor's wife"

Mary rebuffed her aunt. The only thing she said to Rosamund was "As soon as we get to your place I want that cameo."

-0-

Mary sat at her vanity and toyed with the card Sir Richard had given her while Anna took down her hair. She made her decision.

"Anna, there's a change in the plans for tomorrow."


	22. Tell Me That It Isn't True

_A/N: This chapter has been posted early to try to catch the attention of those readers who are giving up on this storey before they can get out of earshot._

_But what do you say to someone who got as far as the last chapter and then quit? That it's a long war and we are only in 1915? That in canon our couple only got together in 1920? Hang in there, it's a roller coaster ride? That there's fluff (but no smut, I'm too embarrassed to write smut) forecast for Chapter 26? That I don't blame you for quitting if the writing has gone all to crap but don't give up because of the plot. Not just yet._

_I can't say any of that to them because they're not reading this. But you are Gentle Reader and I beseech you to give the storey a chance. At least until the end of 1915. Yes my two favourite villains will continue to wreck havoc. Miss Swire will make an appearance. But remember this is a romance not a tragedy._

_The version of the chapter title song by Bob Dylan is recommended._

Tell Me That It Isn't True

Tuesday, May 12, 1915

Matthew handed the orders to the colonel. This being about the two dozenth time he had done this since he had joined Col. Flashman in MI1 he could predict what the colonel's reaction would be based on how long the Colonel had been in service. The younger ones could see the point in gathering intelligence and would cooperate fully. Older ones, prewar colonels, like this one, who looked to be older than Robert, would not. As far as Matthew was concerned the sooner these old mossbacks were killed off the better.

On cue the colonel sputtered "Why in effect these orders hand over the battalion to you" He glared at Matthew "A mere captain; that's outrageous! I won't stand for it..."

"That's fine sir. I'll let General Haig know" General Haig, the supreme commander of them both, had signed the orders, or at least someone with an ability to sign very much like the General had signed the orders; with Col. Flashman you could never tell. Matthew held out his hand for the orders.

"Tell him what?"

"That you refused..."

The colonel's survival mechanism kicked in. These old timers hadn't lasted as long, and risen as high in the peacetime army as they had, without the ability to sense and avoid danger. He held up his hand. "Let's not be hasty. I was just ... perhaps I should confirm..."

"Quite right sir. Perhaps I should go have a cup of tea while you see if you can get Gen. Haig on the telephone." Matthew looked at the clock. "If you could do that right away I would greatly appreciate it. My mission is rather time sensitive. You should be able to catch Gen. Haig at dinner."

The colonel frowned at Matthew. Matthew gave the colonel a bland look, with not the faintest hint of the smirk that was plastered all over the inside of his mind.

"No ..no that won't be necessary." said the colonel. "Will you be long?"

Matthew smiled at him. "With any luck we'll be heading back to HQ by eight o'clock tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, May 13, 1915

Counting himself Matthew had eighteen men in his squad, all veterans of the Great Retreat. His second in command was Lt. Silverfish, whom, once Matthew had understood the kind of missions he would be going on, he had had Col. Flashman recruit. Patrick Harper was his sergeant and he had two corporals: Julius Marx, a Londoner fluent in German, and several other languages Matthew had no immediate need of, and Robert Dearheart, a wireless expert, who for obvious reasons preferred to be addressed by his nickname 'Sparks'. The rest of his squad was thirteen of the toughest, roughest, steadiest men Harper could find. Matthew didn't know if this dirty baker's dozen would scare the Germans but they certainly scared him.

Planning for the mission had been meticulous. They had pored over aerial photographs of the target trench. Thanks to the Teutonic need for order they generally knew what to expect but they had to be sure. At the intersection of the north-south trench paralleling their own trench and a connecting trench coming from the German's rear there was a command bunker which had a communications bunker conveniently located right next to it. In the communication bunker there would be both a wireless and a telephone. They had laid out the locations on the ground with tape and practised until the corp de ballet had their roles down pat.

The goal was straight forward: sneak into the command and communication bunkers, steal any code books, maps, orders and such which might be carelessly left unattended and sneak back. Simple enough.

Execution was a tad more complicated. Twelve of the Hard Men were divided into four teams of three each. A team would be posted in each trench, to block any German reinforcements, and the fourth team would man a captured machine gun post to prevent any counterattack over the top. Sgt. Harper was in charge. The last hard man would stay back in the British trench with a well publicized order to shot anyone, enlisted man or officer, who interfered with their retreat.

Marx and Sparks would gather up any books and papers in the communications bunker and any equipment which looked like it might be different from the usual run of equipment. Matthew would scoop up any maps and papers he found in the command bunker. Lt. Silverfish would spend his time seeding the two bunkers and the connecting trenches with various explosive devices. As he liked to say 'he came in like a lamb but he went out with a bang'.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes from the time the first sentry died to the time the last of them climbed out of the German trench. Five minutes to gain control, five minutes to gather their posies and five minutes to get the hell out of there, hell usually breaking loose anywhere from the four to seven minute mark.

They slithered out of their own trench at just after one o'clock in the morning. It would take them two hours to cross the two hundred yards of no man's land. They took their time working across. Silence was paramount. Barbed wire had to be cut; alarms as simple as tin cans with pebbles inside to complicated electrical buzzers had to be disarmed. Land mines were a theoretical possibility but this particular piece of ground had been chewed up so much they were unlikely to be found.

Their goal was to arrive at the German trench at the hour of death, three a.m., the time old men pass away peacefully in their sleep. The German sentries would have been on duty for three hours; they would be cold, hungry and tired. Their replacements would be still sleeping soundly in their bunks, desperate to get a little more rest before going on duty at four a.m. There would be one solitary officer in the command bunker and one wireless operator in the communication bunker. Which was fine with Matthew, the fewer bodies to trip over the better.

This mission was better than most; it did not go pear shaped until minute eight. Matthew was stuffing maps into the duffel bag he carried when he heard a muffled wump to the south. Shots started to ring out. The machine gun on top started up. For maybe three more minutes, five maximum, the Germans would think they were being attacked in general and would seek to defend themselves. When they realized there was no general attack, that it was just a raid, they would counterattack. Matthew looked around, he had ransacked the entire bunker, he could not see any paper he had left. He hoisted the duffel bag on his shoulder, unscrewed the can of paraffin the Germans used for their stove and poured it on the desks and bookcase. He was careful to not get any on the body of the German officer. Just then Harper stuck his head in the door and called out that it was time.

The blocking teams slowly retreated back to the command bunker. Only two men returned from the south. Matthew looked at Harper. Harper held up one finger and then made the throat cutting sign with that hand. One dead thought Matthew.

When they were all back, at least all those who were coming back, Silverfish blew his whistle and they all covered their ears and ducked. Silverfish then set off the first round of explosive surprises he had spent the last ten minutes spreading around. The bang hadn't even quit reverberating nor the dust settled and the squad was over the top and beetling back to their own trench. As they ran Silverfish's second, and then third, round of surprises erupted. They were almost home free before any shots were directed at them, luckily without effect.

The butcher's bill was one dead, one serious injury and three flesh wounds. The dead man, Jackson, cost Matthew ten shillings, Silverfish five, Harper three, Marx and Sparks two each and the men one each. None of the enlisted men had any family to which they would admit, so there was no one for Matthew to write to, no one to grieve them, so the tradition had arisen of a wake the first night of their next leave. Matthew and Silverfish would attend, drink the first toast 'To a quick death' and then leave the men to go at it.

Col. Flashman was quite happy with the night's haul. There was a code book with a purple cover which he had not seen before and there were some scribblings on a map that looked promising. Matthew left him with his booty and headed back to the tent he shared with Silverfish. There were two letters waiting for him, one from Mary and one addressed in writing he did not recognize, postmarked London.

He read the one from Mary first. She thanked him for the cotton nightgown he had sent her for their second wedding anniversary. 'Where had he found it in a war zone?' A fille de joie of Harper's acquaintance had recommended it via Harper; Matthew had not met her directly, he had made an offhand comment to Harper about buying a present for Mary and the next morning Harper had passed on the address of a seamstress who made nightgowns. Tres romantic Harper had leered. 'So beautiful, a perfect fit, made of the best Egyptian long staple cotton and hand embroidered! You must have gone to a great deal of trouble' Mary wrote. Matthew had found the seamstress, who spoke no English, and he only the coarsest French; Matthew had mimed that Mary was so tall, so wide and so busty; the seamstress had rolled her eyes; Matthew had emphasized that it should be tres beau; the seamstress had rolled her eyes again; they had negotiated a price that on reflection was probably too high; and that was that. It took less than five minutes.

The rest of the letter was gossip about Downton Abbey and a short report of her visit with her aunt in London. The Season had been cancelled, they had dined out a few times, saw a few shows, nothing remarkable. 'The song of the day is Keep the Home Fires Burning and I will keep them burning for you. Love Mary' Matthew smiled at that.

He opened the other letter. Read it. Put it down. Rubbed his eyes. Picked it up and read it again. Reread Mary's letter. He sat with his head in his hands. He read the other letter again.

_'Dear Captain Crawley:_

_I think it is a crying shame that while a brave young man is sacrificing his life in the trenches for his King and Country his wife chooses to run around on him. You should know that while you are in France your wife is in London keeping time with Sir Richard Carlisle who owns a chain of newspapers. He is a rich and powerful man who is said to be one of the men behind the rise of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Your wife was seen to partner him at several dinners and then she acted as hostess at a dinner he gave at his mansion. She was sporting a very expensive ruby and diamond necklace he gave her. They apparently rendezvous at a flat he keeps in Mayfair. You should send this hussy packing as soon as you can and marry someone pure who will be true to you._

_A Friend'_

Matthew fought down the rage rising him. He would give Mary a chance to respond. He owed her that.

He wrote her:

_'Darling Mary:_

_I am so glad you liked the nightgown. I hope to see you it in it someday. But it may be some time before I do, the fighting season is upon us._

_I am enclosing a letter I just received. There was no return address on the envelope but it was postmarked London. _

_If you have taken a lover I do not want any justifications, or rationalizations, or apologies, or promises to never do it again. Just write the word 'goodbye' on a piece of paper and send it. It will be enough; I do not want to know any details._

_Know this: I hope it is not true. I hope that it is the calumny of some enemy of yours who is hoping by such libel to injure you. After the war we will hunt her down and deal with her._

_I really really want to see you in that nightgown. Then I want to see you out of it._

_Love Matthew'_

Matthew sealed the letter. Then he went to see Col. Flashman about circumventing the censors; he did not want them reading of his marital troubles.

Saturday, May 22, 1915

Mary read Matthew's letter then the hateful anonymous letter he had forwarded and then his letter again. He still loved her. He just wanted an explanation. She felt like throwing up. This might be the most important letter of her life. Where to start?

The trouble was that just enough of the letter was true to make her look guilty. She had partnered Sir Richard at two dinners. She had co-hosted his dinner. She had worn the ruby and diamond necklace, which he had promised to give to her. He had wanted to rendezvous with her in Mayfair. She felt trapped.

And she had thought she was home free. The night of Sir Richard's dinner, the night Sir Richard had pressed that card with the address in Mayfair into her hand, she had made her decision. She would have nothing to do with him or London High Society. The corruption beneath the shiny facade disgusted her. She had told Anna to pack everything, and then the next day, after Aunt Rosamund had left for her weekly lunch with her cousin, she and Anna had left for the train station. At the hour Sir Richard had appointed for their assignation she was already rocketing north. She half wondered how long he had waited. She was sure he would have had words later with Aunt Rosamund over the absence of her protege.

Aunt Rosamund. Mary scowled at the anonymous letter. No it couldn't be. Not her aunt. She jumped up and headed down the hall to her mother's room.

Her mother kept a file of all the correspondence she received. Mary riffled through it. She found a letter from Rosamund asking, in a round about way for some beef and other provisions. She compared it to the anonymous letter. The handwriting was identical. Mary ground her teeth.

Why? Why would her aunt do such a thing? What on earth had she hoped to accomplish?

What her aunt couldn't do directly she had tried to do indirectly. She had tried everything she could to throw Mary together with Sir Richard. Looking back it was so obvious. But it hadn't worked, Mary had ran away. So she had tried to break Mary and Matthew up with the letter, hoping no doubt that Sir Richard would win Mary on the rebound. But she hadn't realized Matthew would send the letter to Mary. Well Aunt Rosamund you are going to pay vowed Mary. Like Matthew wrote, we are going to hunt you down and make you pay.

"Mary, what are you doing?"

Mary turned around. "I...I" she stammered.

Cora did not like the look on Mary's face, it reminded her of when Mary had been in the hospital. "What's a matter?"

Mary couldn't reply she just sat on her mother's bed and handed her the anonymous letter. Cora read it, frowning as she did so.

"This looks like Rosamund's writing"

"It is" and Mary handed her the letter from Rosamund she had found in her mother's file.

Cora sat down on the bed beside Mary. "Maybe you should tell me what happened."

Mary told her the whole sordid tale.

Cora looked at her daughter with sympathy. "You know, Rosamund never wanted me to marry your father. And now it looks like she doesn't want you married to Matthew."

Mary nodded.

Cora patted her on the knee. "Don't worry we'll take care of that bitch" Cora chuckled at Mary's shocked reaction. "Yes I know words like that, and how to use them. Now let me think about this, in the meantime you had better write Matthew and put out that fire." Mary got up and headed towards the door. Just before she went through Cora called to her "You had better not tell your father or grandmother about this just yet, I'm not sure how they'd react"

But in the meantime she was going to have write and explain everything without making herself appear guilty of something she had not done. She sighed and went back to her room. She sat at her desk and pulled out a sheet of paper.

It took Mary eleven attempts to produce a letter to Matthew. It would be so much easier if he was there in person. She could draw diagrams if she had to do, to show him how her aunt was behind everything. But he wasn't and so all she could do was describe what really happened as best she could without making herself look too culpable. She wasn't totalling satisfied with it but it would have to do, She was going to have to step off the cliff and hope he loved her enough to catch her.

It was five months before Mary heard from Matthew.


	23. Dieu est à nos côtés

_A/N: Many thanks to all those who have continued with this storey. Your persistence is greatly appreciated._

_At the end of this chapter (because it contains a small spoiler) is a mea culpa regarding Miss Swire and my tardiness in 'going around the barn' ._

_The versions of the chapter title song by __Hugues Aufray and __Hart Rouge are recommended._

Dieu est à nos côtés

May to November, 1915

During the summer of 1915 Matthew joined the French Foreign Legion. Harper went with him.

The French had been so impressed by the success of Col. Flashman's programme of gathering intelligence via trench raiding that they had wanted to learn more about it. But being French they could not just ask for help from the English; so instead they invited Col. Flashman to send a couple of representatives to learn how the French did things. And if it happened that those English representatives happened to impart a few bits of information it couldn't be helped, n'est pas?

Matthew and Harper learned that the French ate better than the British army, at least the officers' and sergeants' messes. They learned that Legionnaires were as hard as their own hard men. They learned some Savate and some additional ways to kill men silently and quickly. And they learned, or at least Matthew did, for Harper neither received nor sent mail, that the French postal service did not function for an Anglais, at least in a war zone.

Matthew yearned to receive an explanation from Mary about this Sir Richard Carlisle. He was fearful that all he would get was a postcard with the single word 'goodbye' scrawled on it. But he got nothing. He assumed that a pile of mail was waiting for him at Col. Flashman's HQ but that thought did him no good. The not knowing was eating away at him.

The action helped. He had been worried about the language barrier but a surprising number of the Legionnaires were Americans. His translator was from Brooklyn. The French seemed surprised at the amount of planning and choreography he did before a mission. He got the impression they were rather insouciant: point at the objective and say 'Allez'.

All the planning he did was of no use to him on his last mission of 1915, which nearly cost him his life.

It started simple enough. They took out the sentries and slid into the German trenches. There was no one there. There were a lot of metal cylinders marked 'Cl' and marked with the skull and crossed bones that in any language indicated that you did not want to be in the vicinity if those cylinders were improperly opened. There were hoses attached to the valves. Matthew assumed that sometime this very morning, as soon as the wind was in the right quadrant, technicians would aim the hoses towards the French lines, open the valves and the chlorine gas attack would start.

"I've got a bad felling about this" Harper said. "I respectfully suggest that we get the hell out of here" The unspoken thought was especially as they didn't carry gas masks on raids. Matthew could feel the eyes of the Legionnaires on him.

"I agree" Matthew could feel the sighs of relief "But before we do we spread our explosives amongst these cylinders and try to rupture as many as we can. The gas will follow the bottom of the trenches and give the Boche a nasty surprise" There were nods of agreement.

In under five minutes they were slipping back over the parapet on the way back to their own trenches. Two minutes later the timers went off on the explosives and the cylinders were blown open. The gas posed no threat to them, chlorine was heavier than air so it would flow along the bottom of the German trenches. It would not catch them as they scurried across no man's land. The German artillery barrage did.

Matthew cursed and pushed Harper into an old shell crater they were passing. Of course the Germans would launch an artillery attack before the gas attack. It would keep the French pinned down in their bunkers not knowing a cloud of poisonous gas was going to trap them there for all time. It was his last conscious thought for a long time.

-0-

Matthew looked up from his cards. He was playing Manille with three other habitues of the French military hospital. Between them they had enough functional body parts to equip two and three quarter men.

He had heard his name spoken, or more accurately shouted. He squinted with his left eye, his right eye still being bandaged. It was Col. Flashman, speaking loudly in English, that being the preferred method of the Englishman abroad to overcome the language barrier, enquiring as to the whereabouts of his Captain Crawley. Matthew started waving his left hand, his right arm still in the sling. He tried to yell but all he could manage was a croak. Lucky for him, Harper, who was with the colonel, saw him, and they started his way.

"Well Crawley, when you didn't return at the appointed time from your little sojourn with the Legion I thought you and your sergeant had decided to take French leave and were heading south and east. Hated the thought of having to have you shot. But then Harper showed up a day late and a pound short and convinced me to come looking for you. Although, now that I've seen you I'm not sure the trip was worth the fare. The Legion said they'd keep you. Put you up for the Croix de guerre for foiling that gas attack you know"

All Matthew could do was shrug. He had perfected his shrug, even with only one operational shoulder, it was Gallic in scope now, he was confident he could do everything in French society, from ordering a meal to fighting a duel, via shrug.

The colonel rattled on "Well we've come all this way we might as well take you back with us. I'll send the ambulance people up to get you." and he spun on his heel and left.

Matthew extended his left hand to Harper "Thanks Patrick, I've been told what you did getting me back to the aid station and making sure they didn't triage me"

Harper shook his hand. "It was nothing, I'd do the same for anyone who saved my life. Besides I had a couple of Legionnaires backing me. You know the colonel wasn't kidding, we have an open invitation to join the Legion. Speaking of which" and he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Matthew.

Matthew looked at it. It was a stylized fleur-de-lis with flames shooting out of it. It was the emblem of the Legion Etrangere. He looked at Harper who explained:

"We're honourary Legionnaires now. They threw quite a party for us. They had a great appreciation for not being gassed. Don't worry, I drank your share for you. I tell you I haven't been kissed by so many men since I quit being an altar boy."

Matthew laughed although it hurt his ribs on his right side to do so,

-0-

After much travail Matthew ended up in a British Army hospital where the doctors pored over him looking for things for which they could criticize their French colleagues, but to their disappointment there was nothing. The French had done a bang up job on Matthew.

The day after Matthew arrived Harper arrived with a manila folder. Inside were letters, six from Mary, five from his mother and two that looked to be from Robert. They were all sealed, the censors didn't bother with incoming mail. He played with them with his left hand and then asked Harper to open them for him.

After all his anticipation he could not bring himself to read the letters from Mary just yet. So he read the letters from his mother first, sequentially; there was news of the hospital and Downton Abbey, friends in Manchester, reading between the lines, for his mother would never be so crass to mention war deaths to him while he was in a war zone, he could tell which families had suffered loss; mention of Dr. Richard Clarkson seemed to occur at frequent intervals, he was going to have to enquire of the doctor as to the honourableness of his intentions; was he keeping warm and dry?; as the letters progressed enquiries about why he wasn't writing back became shriller, as he sensed she became more and more worried for him.

The letters from Robert were bluff as was to be expected from one soldier to another; news of the management of the estate; best wishes from his wife, mother, and daughters; speaking of which he couldn't help notice the lack of letters to Mary; and well, he was sure there was a good reason for not writing, but a letter or two would be most helpful. Matthew sighed.

Matthew considered the stack of letters from Mary. That there was six was a good sign, wasn't it? He read the oldest letter first. He skimmed through looking for the word 'goodbye' which was thankfully absent, and then he started again at the top. It contained Mary's account of her aunt's perfidy. He curled his lip. You will pay for this Aunt Rosamund. Someday, some way you will pay. But.. but Mary, how could you be so stupidly naive? Couldn't you see a pattern developing?. Couldn't you just say no? Matthew wasn't completely satisfied with her explanation; there was an undercurrent of fascination for the world that this Sir Richard Carlisle represented; was there still a chance that he could lose her to that exciting life? The remaining letters were much like his mother's with news of Downton; although thankfully there was no further mentions of 'Richard', whether Carlisle or Clarkson; building to a crescendo of why don't you write?, is something wrong?; are you angry at me?

He had to write Mary first, but how. The medicos assured him his cast would be off the next week but that was too late; he needed to write her now. But how? He was on the verge of asking Harper to write for him the next time he visited when one of the Red Cross ladies who passed through the ward distributing candy and cigarettes noticed him with his stack of letters and his right arm in a cast.

"Would you like some help writing a letter Captain?"

Matthew looked at her. She was slight, with ginger hair and a very pleasant smile. She was pretty while Mary was beautiful, but she was very very pretty. He smiled back. "Yes please miss. If it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

She cranked up the smile another notch. "Not at all, it's part of my job. Just let me finish with my tray and I'll be right back." she turned to go and then turned back. "Oh, I'm Lavinia Swire"

"And I'm Matthew Crawley".

She smiled again and was gone for five minutes. When she came back she had a clipboard and some stationery. She pulled a chair over to the side of Matthew's bed and sat down. She gave him an expectant look.

Matthew started dictating. "Top right corner put the date" he waited "then next line on the right put 'Somewhere in France' he waited 'then down a line, left hand side put 'Darling Mary colon'"

"You've done a lot of dictation" she said.

"Yes, back before all this I was a solicitor"

"My father is a solicitor"

"Oh? Where at?"

"London, maybe you know him? Reggie Swire?"

"I'm sorry I don't, I practised first in Manchester then in Ripon, in Yorkshire"

And for the next five minutes they bounced names of solicitors back and forth but the only one in common was Henry Buckley, a classmate of Matthew's who had been with a firm in London before the war. Lavinia opined that Henry was a pig for unspecified actions with respect to a friend of hers; and Matthew knowing of Henry's character, would have agreed, but, on the principal of not speaking ill of the dead, for Henry had been killed at Ypres this past spring, passed on judgement.

The topic of mutual acquaintances having been exhausted Lavinia asked "Who is Mary?"

"My wife"

"Oh I see... Shall we continue?"

Matthew would have liked to have poured his heart out to Mary but was inhibited by the fact of his amanuensis. So the letter was perhaps a little too stilted but what could he do?

Lavinia asked what closing to use and he told her to "put 'Love Matthew'".

Lavinia agreed to come back the next evening to help write a letter to his mother.

After she had left with some difficulty he unfolded the letter and read it one last time.

_'Darling Mary:_

_A thousand apologies for not answering your letters (now six). All I can say in my defense is that I was away all summer on a mission (of which I can tell you nothing) at a place (I cannot say where) where the writ of the Royal Mail did not reach._

_You may have noticed that my handwriting has considerably improved over the summer. Thing is towards the end of that thing I cannot tell you about the lads and I ran into a bit of bother and I got banged up a little on my right side. Nothing fatal. And I still have all the important parts. The medicos tell me the casts should be off next week and in a month or so I should be playing the violin. Which is great news since I couldn't play the violin before. Anyway, long story short, a very kind Red Cross lady, Miss Lavinia Swire, has agreed to take my dictation, poor as it may be._

_I thank you for your answer to my enquiry regarding the matter raised by your aunt in her letter. I think we really should do something for her, poor thing. We will speak more about it when I get home._

_Thanks also for all the other news of home. You have no idea how tranquil it sounds, even your bickering with your sisters. I long to be there, with you, in Eden once more._

_Anyway I must close, I cannot keep Miss Swire past her curfew. _

_As I said. I hope to be up and about in a few weeks. My colonel has promised me a long convalescent leave as soon as I am sufficiently mobile so I hope to be spending this Christmas with you. I am very mindful of what we missed last Christmas, being apart as we were. Until then_

_Love Matthew _

_XXX'_

Matthew smiled at the Xs, he had not told Miss Swire to put them there.

The next night Miss Swire again came to help and Matthew wrote a letter to his mother. Truth be told they spent more time chatting than writing. Matthew found Miss Swire to be very pleasant company.

The third night they worked on the letter to Robert. Replies to questions Robert had asked in his letters necessitated references to the estate and Miss Swire did her sums and came up with four and so Matthew had to tell her about Downton Abbey although he did not tell her about the entail or that he was heir to the Earldom.

"So your wife is a lady?"

"Yes"

"But you had me address the letter to her as 'Mrs.'"

"Yes, having married down she goes by 'Mrs.'".

"How romantic that she gave up her title for you"

"On paper maybe, in real life it is more prosaic."

"In your letter to her you didn't mention any children.."

"We don't have any... we had a little boy ...but he died."

Matthew was silent for a long while. Finally Miss Swire patted him on his hand.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"You had no way of knowing. It's been two years but still..."

"And your wife, how is she..."

"Coping? Well I suppose. We don't talk about it"

"There will be more children" she assured him.

"That is the hope."

The fourth night Matthew was wondering who he could write a letter to but he need not have bothered, Miss Swire was happy to just sit and talk.

A week later, just after his casts were removed, Matthew receive orders transferring him to a convalescent hospital in Portwenn, Cornwall the very next day. He was filling a vacancy in the detail being shipped out which had just come open. It did not take much imagination to understand why. Some poor blighter had bought the farm.

That night he said goodbye to Miss Swire. "I'm going to miss our nightly chats" Matthew told her.

"Oh once you're home you'll forget all about me." Lavinia smiled at him. "I'm afraid I must leave early tonight, they're shorthanded in the canteen." She gave Matthew a quick kiss on the cheek "Your wife doesn't know how lucky she is" and then she left the ward without looking back.

_SPOILER ALERT_

_A/N: So Miss Swire ended up playing the role of a red herring. My apologies to you Gentle Reader. What was intended to pique your curiosity caused some fretting. In mitigation of sentence I point out that a certain TV production hyped S3E3 with pictures of Lady Edith in a wedding dress and Sir Anthony waiting at the altar. I submit that mine is the lesser offence._

_With respect to the matter of (ahem) consummation I would point that in the aforesaid TV production Matthew and Mary were not ad item until four and half years after the events of this and the next few chapters. Patience people patience._

_Please keep your reviews rolling in. I am in danger of flunking my freshman creative writing course and I need all the help I can get. _


	24. Pledging My Time

_A/N: the version of the chapter title song by Luther "Guiter Jr." Johnson and the Magic Rockers is recommended. _

Pledging My Time

Tuesday, November 9, 1915

Mary floated. He lives. He believes me. He loves me. She sang to herself.

The only fly in the ointment was the handwriting of the letter. It was young and pretty handwriting. She had smelled the paper. There was no residual smell of any perfume. She had questions but still...

He lives, he loves me. La la la. She sang to herself as she floated.

-0-

"Rosamund is coming for a short visit this weekend." Robert announced at dinner that night. "And she is bringing a gentleman friend. It seems that he is interested in acquiring property in this vicinity."

"And she is no doubt interested in acquiring him" Violet sniffed.

"Did she say whom this gentleman friend might be?" asked Cora.

"No she didn't, she just said it was an old friend of hers and of Mary's"

They all looked at Mary. She just shook her head and then stared at her mother. They both were thinking the same thing: 'Rosamund wouldn't, would she?'

She would and she did.

Friday, November 12, 1915

Rosamund introduced Sir Richard to Robert and Cora. "And where is Mary? Sir Richard is anxious to renew their acquaintance."

Sir Richard gave them a smarmy smile. It was all Cora could do to keep her lip from curling at him. "Oh she had to run an errand, she'll be back shortly."

As the footmen were leading Rosamund and Sir Richard up to their rooms Cora linked her arm with Robert's. "We have to talk" and she lead him into the library where Mary was waiting.

"Mary, tell your father what transpired between you and Sir Richard and your aunt while you were in London."

Mary went through the whole storey. She finished by showing her father the letter Matthew received and the letter to her mother from Rosamund which clearly showed they were in the same handwriting.

The more he listened the angrier Robert got. "This is outrageous.. to have such a man under our roof..and my sister..I am going upstairs and throwing them..."

Cora grabbed his arm. "Not yet. We have to see what they plan to do."

"But Mary's safety..."

"Don't worry, we have a plan of our own..."

-0-

Mary did not come face to face with Sir Richard until she came down shortly before dinner. Sir Richard was waiting for her in the hall.

"Lady Mary! I am so delighted to see you again" he said and he put out his hand to her.

Mary had no choice, she had to extend her own hand and Sir Richard took it. He did not let go right away and Mary almost had to wrench her hand away from him.

"How are you Sir Richard?"

"Very well and you Lady Mary?"

"Fine thank you" Mary looked around Sir Richard, desperate to escape to the company of someone else but no one was down yet. The only other person in the hall was Carson standing beside the dining room door.

Sir Richard stood with his back to Carson and spoke to Mary in a quiet tone, almost a whisper. "I was so disappointed when you did not keep your appointment"

"I made no appointment sir!"

"You took my card did you not? But let us not argue. What pleasure you missed that afternoon you will experience tonight."

Mary recoiled from him. "What on earth you mean?"

"I mean that tonight at midnight I will come to your room."

"You cannot! I will..."

Sir Richard held his finger to his lips. "You will not scream; you will not make a scene. If you do and we are found out I will say you invited me there. And I will be believed; after all, you, with the help of your bogus husband " he sneered " have already established the looseness of your morals. I won't be the first man who was ever seduced by a slut. No, you will welcome me with open arms. If you would just think it through you would realize that I am the best thing that has ever happened to you. Within the next year your sham of a marriage will be annulled, we will be wed and you will be dining at 10 Downing Street. You will be fabulously wealthy and powerful. That is the role you were born to play, not the wife of a country solicitor who might be an earl in twenty or thirty years time. Assuming he even survives the war"

They could hear someone coming down the stairs so he stepped back but not before whispering "We will plant the seed of all that tonight. Until then" and he leered at her.

All Mary could do was stare at him in shock. This was much more that she and her mother had thought could happen.

-0-

Cora could tell something was wrong with Mary. She was just picking at her food. She hardly looked up from her plate. On the opposite side of the table Sir Richard was not bothering to make conversation with either Edith who was one side of him or Violet who was on the other. He was staring at Mary. Cora decided that action must be taken.

"Mary, you look like you are getting one of your headaches. Come and I'll give you one of those headache powders my mother sent from America." She stood up and Mary stood also. "Excuse us".

As they were leaving Cora asked Carson to have Anna attend on Mary.

Watching them go Violet sniffed "I don't doubt that they have powerful headache powders in America, living there would be enough to give anyone a headache."

Once upstairs Cora asked Mary what was the matter and Mary told her what Sir Richard said he was going to do.

Cora thought for a minute and then rubbed Mary's back. "I think he's in for a surprise."

When Anna arrived Cora instructed her to pack a small overnight bag for Mary. When Mary looked askance at her she explained "It's not safe for you here. I want you to slip down the back stairs and then go around to the front of the house and have Branson take you to Crawley House. You can hide out with Isobel until we are rid of this loathsome Sr Richard and my sister-in-law." She thought for a moment. "Will Branson keep quiet?"

"I'll ask him not to say anything" volunteered Anna.

"Good. Now hurry I want you out of here before dessert is finished"

Cora went downstairs and rejoined the diners. "Mary has gone to bed." She saw Rosamund and Sir Richard exchange glances and Rosamund give a small nod. Hmm, she wondered if Rosamund knew Mary had changed bedrooms. Just to make sure she told Rosamund "You know Mary has moved into the Dowager Countess' old bedroom, she finds it so much quieter there."

"I hadn't known that" Rosamund said and gave Sir Richard another glance "How convenient for her."

No one seemed to want to visit much after dinner and so by eleven everyone had retired to bed which suited Cora fine, she had to get her pieces in place.

-0-

Shortly before midnight Rosamund lead Sir Richard to the short hall which lead to Mary's new bedroom. She pointed at Mary's door and held up a finger to her lips. Quiet. He nodded to her. This was observed by Carson and Anna who were hiding in an alcove off the hall.

Sir Richard went to Mary's door and did not knock. Instead he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

"Go away" said a female voice from inside the room.

Sir Richard stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He could see her standing in front of the window, backlit by the moonlight. In that soft brogue of his he said "You've teased me enough, now I'm going to tease you until you moan for more." He took a step forward.

"I don't think so" the voice said.

Then the lights came on.

Sir Richard saw it was Cora in the room. And then behind him he heard Robert.

"You have abused our hospitality sir."

Sir Richard spun around. Standing there were Robert and the crippled valet, Bates was it?, who was holding his cane in a menacing manner.

"Mary invited me. That slut..."

"Don't you dare say another word sir if you wish to leave here with any teeth" warned Robert.

Bates brandished his cane at Sir Richard.

Sir Richard shut up.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Bates opened it and Carson ushered in Rosamund.

"I see your accomplice has arrived." observed Robert. "The two of you are going to go back to your rooms and get dressed and packed. Branson will then take you to the train station to wait for the milk train. Make sure you dress warm, it gets pretty cold out there in the early morning". Robert glared at his sister. "Why would you try to hurt Mary like this?"

Rosamund was defiant. "It's for her own good. There's no need for her to be tied to that loser of a husband when she could be married to one of the richest and most powerful men in Britain! You should have seen her acting as Sir Richard's hostess. She was brilliant! That's her destiny, not wasting away here in Downton running the flower show."

Robert stared at her. "Mary has decided what life she wants and we all here respect her decision. You can think what you want but you will think it from afar. Neither you nor your friend are welcome at Downton Abbey anymore. Now begone"

"You haven't heard the last of this" hissed Rosamund "Wait until I tell Mother!"

"Tell me what?" asked Violet as she stepped out of Mary's dressing room. "I suspected that you were a stupid silly woman and now it has been confirmed. I second your banishment" Looking at both her daughter and Sir Richard she said "I would suggest you both keep very quiet about this, I hesitate to wonder what my gossip circle would make of this if I was forced to tell them what has transpired."

Sir Richard knew when the battle was lost, not the war mind you, but the battle, and so he nodded at them and left to get dressed and packed.

Rosamund tried to blubber but when it had no effect on the stoney faced people glaring at her she left also.


	25. You Ain't Going Nowhere

_A/N: the versions of the chapter title song by Billy Bremner, John Leonard and Brent Dennen are recommended._

You Ain't Going Nowhere

Thursday, November 25, 1915

Matthew spent only two weeks in Cornwall, which he spent walking up and down the sea shore, before the medical staff thought he was sufficiently healed to go on his convalescent leave. As Dr. Ellingham, the head doctor, put it "You are wasting our time and the King's money". He had a bit more than two months of leave, he had to report to duty on February 1, 1916. He did not write or telegraph Downton to let them know of his imminent arrival. Let the surprise be an early Christmas present.

As it happened the only letter Matthew received in Cornwall before he left was from his 'friend' in London.

"_Dear Captain Crawley:_

_You should know that hussy you are married to has invited her lover, Sir Richard Carlisle, to Downton Abbey to spend the weekend with her going at it right under the noses of her parents._

_It is a crying shame the way she so brazenly betrays you._

_A Friend"_

Matthew shook his head. What was Mary's Aunt Rosamund up to? Trying to drive a wedge between him and Mary so this Sir Richard could step into the breach? And who had actually done the inviting?

-0-

On his way home to Downton Matthew stopped off in London to do some Christmas shopping.

For Mary Matthew had a special gift in mind. The nightgown had been such a success that, before he had shipped out, he had consulted his expert in all things having to do with ladies, Sgt. Harper, as to where he could get a good deal on a ring. The next day Marx had shown up with a letter addressed to D. Marx & Sons, Jewellers, with a address in Hatton Garden, London.

"Give to this to my father, he will give you a good deal" Marx told him.

Matthew thanked him and asked "Are you one of the sons in the business?"

Marx shrugged. "My father was an optimist when he had the sign painted. One son is a doctor, one a dentist and well me, I'm a soldier"

Matthew smiled to himself. It seemed that they all had been infected with the Gallic shrug. "But you weren't always..."

"No, I was a student but now ..." he shrugged again, "who knows what might happen?"

Matthew found the shop easily enough. He was reluctant to enter, it looked much too imposing to be in his price range. He shrugged to himself, there's no harm in looking, and he went in.

The surprisingly heavy door closed quietly behind him. The room was very elegant, muted royal blue and dark oak. It was very still. Matthew felt out of place. He turned to leave when a woman about the age of his mother came out of the back room. She was tall and slender, her dark hair streaked with grey. Matthew blinked. She could be Mary in twenty five years.

"May I help you?"

"Ah.. I have a letter for Mr. Marx" and he took the letter out of his breast pocket and gave it to her.

"One moment please" and she left the room.

Less than two minutes later a man looking like an older, balder and heavier version of Matthew's Marx entered the room. He gestured towards a small office just off the main showroom. "I am David Marx and I understand that you are my son's commanding officer"

"Yes Matthew Crawley" and they shook hands.

Mr. Marx introduced the lady as his wife and mother of his sons.

"Please come in and sit down"

Matthew did and Mrs. Marx brought in a tea service and poured them all tea.

"In this letter my son is very complimentary of you."

"I appreciate that"

"He says that you are a real mensch"

Matthew looked puzzled and Mr. Marx explained that it meant that Matthew was an honourable man.

All Matthew could do was shrug.

Mr. Marx smiled at him "On his last leave my son shrugged all the time, he says there are at least seventeen meanings that can be conveyed by shrugging. I am afraid if this war continues for any length of time you are all going to turn into Frenchmen."

Matthew smiled, it was all he could do to keep from shrugging in reply.

Then Mr. Marx got down to business. "My son tells me you are looking for a ring for your wife. Tell me about her." Matthew was taken aback and Mr. Marx explained "Different rings suit different people."

So Matthew described Mary as best he could and both Mr. Marx and Mrs. Marx asked questions about her personality. When he had finished they both looked at each other and shrugged. Matthew smiled at that. They both got up and went over to a display case and pulled out several trays. Mr. Marx took a ring from each and laid them on the counter. Mrs. Marx looked at them for a moment and then picked one. Mr. Marx picked it up and put the rest back. They came back and sat down. Mr. Marx laid the ring his wife had chosen, a large diamond flanked by two slightly smaller diamonds, all brilliant cut, mounted on a gold band, in front of Matthew. Without picking it up Matthew could see the colours dancing in its facets.

"When you were describing your wife you described my wife." Mr. Marx told him. Mrs. Marx smiled at him "Although my wife is perhaps a little more imperious" This earned him a nudge with an elbow. "So I had my wife pick out which ring she would like"

"It is a very beautiful ring" said Matthew. It was fabulous. It was beyond his means.

"Now my son told me I should give give you the family discount, the close family discount. But you understand that there are certain fixed costs involved?"

Matthew nodded and Mr. Marx took out a pen and piece of paper, wrote a figure on the paper and pushed it over to him.

Matthew opened it up. One hundred and fifty pounds. It would almost clean out his bank account. But that was not the problem. That amount wouldn't even pay for the small stone. He pushed the paper back to Mr. Marx.

"I think you made a mistake"

"Oh?"

"There's at least one zero missing, maybe two"

Now Mr. Marx shrugged. "I could point out the minute variations in colour, clarity and cut that make it less than perfect but instead I will just point out that you are family, close family, and that is the price. Let Mama model it for you" and he pushed the ring towards Matthew.

Mrs. Marx held out her left hand to Matthew and he slid the ring onto her ring finger up to her wedding band. She moved her hand around in the light and the lights flashed off the diamonds. Matthew sucked in his breath thinking that it would look like that on Mary's hand.

Mr. Marx smiled at Matthew, held out his hand and they shook.

Sunday, November 28, 1915

Mary sat in the Library trying to read, but mostly daydreaming of...

Carson gave a discrete cough.

Mary looked up at him. "Yes?"

"The Brown boy from the village is here with a message for you."

It was all Mary could do to stop herself from leaping up and running into the hall. Instead she got up sedately and followed Carson out of the Library.

Billy Brown bowed to Mary and handed her an envelope. She held up a finger to him meaning 'just wait a minute'. She slowly opened the envelope.

All the note inside said was:

"_Mary:_

_He is here. He is on convalescent leave until February 1, 1916. Do not be alarmed - he appears to be in good shape. More or less._

_Is it time to start Operation Honeymoon? _

_Isobel"_

Yes it is, yes it is thought Mary. She looked at Carson "Have.."

".. Anna attend on you; Branson bring the auto around the front; Mrs. Patmore give the lad here some hot chocolate while he is waiting for his ride..."

She gave Carson a sweet smile. "Could you also ask Mrs. Patmore to get the special picnic basket ready and have Mrs. Hughes fix up Mrs. Crawley's room for her" Seeing his confusion she added "They'll know what I'm talking about, it has all been arranged. Oh and don't forget to give Mr. Brown his two shillings"

"As your ladyships wishes" Carson bowed and started heading downstairs with Billy.

"Oh, Carson.."

He turned to her. "Yes, my Lady?"

"On my authority give Mrs. Patmore the bottles she asks for"

He nodded to her. Bottles? What does she mean bottles?

_A/N: I suppose this would be a bad time to announce that the storey is going on indefinite hiatus until I work out how it gets through the rest of the Great War :-)_

_Fear not Gentle Reader, if all goes well M/M get together this Sunday. However you should not get your hopes up. Remember there will be no smut and anyway sometimes newlyweds find the wedding night, shall we say, anti-climatic. But as always you will judge the result for yourself. Until then... _


	26. Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You

_A/N: The versions of the chapter title song by Sugarland and Socratic are recommended. _

Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You

Sunday, November 28, 1915 continued

Isobel had bet herself it would take Mary exactly one hour to make it to Crawley House. She made it in forty seven minutes.

As soon as she saw the headlights of the estate's auto Isobel started putting her coat on. Clothes and other things she would need were already in the room they had ready for her at the Abbey.

Matthew saw her and walked over to where she was standing in the front hall. "You didn't tell me you were going out."

Before she could answer the front door opened. Mary was standing there holding a picnic basket. They both looked at her. Mary stepped into the house and put the picnic basket down.

Isobel recovered first. "Congratulations" she kissed Matthew on the cheek "I'll see you in a few days." As she went by Mary she gave her a hug. She turned back to Matthew "Mrs. Bird and Ellen have gone to the pub. When they get back they'll stay out of your way." Then she was gone, closing the door behind her.

Matthew was still staring at Mary. She turned around. When he didn't react she gave a small cough. He stepped up to her and took her coat.

This time he was ready when she spun around and kissed her back when she kissed him. Then he stared at her again.

She smiled at him. "I believe there is an outstanding proposal, where would you like to make it? The drawing room?" and she went through to that room.

Matthew hung up her coat and then followed her into the drawing room.

"Should I sit to receive it or is it better if I stand?"

"Wait a minute" Matthew said. "Before we get to that part of the programme I have a question"

Mary sat down. "Oh?"

"Has your guest left?"

"Guest?"

Matthew took out his wallet and extracted Rosamund's last note to him. He handed it to Mary. Then he sat on the chair opposite her.

Mary read the note. "She must have sent this before they came" and she told the whole story from when her aunt first invited her to come stay in London last April. As she talked he could see storm clouds forming on his face.

When she finished he stood and said through clenched teeth "I am going to London tomorrow!"

Mary jumped up and grabbed his arms. "No! It's over! Please leave it be" she was desperate.

Matthew held her at arm's length. "I'm going to kill him".

She shook her head "No, no. He's not worth it." She started to cry. "It might be partly my fault too."

Still holding Mary at arm's length Matthew walked her backwards and sat her down again. Then he went back and again sat down opposite her. "What do you mean by that?"

Mary sniffed. She wished she had a handkerchief. Matthew noticed and gave her his. "When I met him at the first dinner, he was very interesting to talk to and I may have flirted with him..a little" She could not look him in the eye.

Matthew glowered at her. He knew how Mary could flirt. "Did you and him do ..it?"

"No!"

"Did you kiss?"

"No, there was nothing like that.. I did nothing to even suggest I would welcome ... I just might have flirted with him a bit...He took it all wrong..."

Matthew stood up and considered her. "If we are to have a proper marriage you must promise to give up flirting." He took a step closer to her and held out his arms

She jumped up into his hug. "I promise!" She reached up and grabbed the sides of his head and pulled him into a kiss. Then she asked "Will you promise not to do anything foolish against him..."

He whispered into her ear. "If he ever does anything again to hurt you I will kill him. Until then he can live"

Matthew manoeuvred Mary over to the sofa and they sat down. They cuddled there until their respective blood pressures returned to normal.

Matthew was just about to enquire 'What's in the picnic basket ?' as he was getting a little hungry when Mary said:

"Tell me about Miss Swire"

"Miss Swire?" Internally Matthew could hear the whistle of an incoming artillery projectile. He looked frantically around for a shell hole into which he could dive.

Mary gave him a sweet, a dangerously sweet, smile. "You know the Red Cross lady whom wrote your letters to me and father and your mother. That was nice of her."

Matthew acknowledged she was nice.

"An older lady?" Mary asked.

"Ah ..no, she's about ...ah... Edith's age."

"I see. Was she pretty?'

"Yes" Matthew knew better than to compare Miss Swire to anyone.

"What did she do other than write letters for you?"

"She handed out candy and cigarettes in the ward. She also worked in the canteen"

"Did the two of you talk?"

"Yes"

"About what?"

"Her father is a solicitor in London, so she told me about the life of a solicitor's family in London and I told her about life in Downton."

Now Mary glowered at him. "Did you and her do ..it?"

"No!" Matthew held up his hand "And before you ask if we would have done 'it' if I hadn't been bandaged and plastered all the way up and down the right side of my body I want you to know that since the very first time I saw you, the time you came to invite mother and I up to the Great House, I have never touched another woman with amorous intent."

"So I needn't ask if you kissed?"

Matthew was starting to think that honesty might not be the best policy, but still Mary had been honest with him. "She kissed me. On the cheek."

"And how did that come about?" There was an edge to Mary's voice.

"I told her I was shipping out the next day and she said she had to leave early because they were shorthanded in the canteen; she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and said 'Your wife doesn't know how lucky she is' and then she left. That's all that happened."

Mary covered the right side of his face. Even with that side of his face all bandaged up Miss Swire had recognized a keeper. Mary smiled at Matthew. "Miss Swire was wrong. I know exactly how lucky I am" and then she gave him a very long kiss. On the lips.

Matthew wasn't sure whether he was still hungry, for food anyway, but he asked all the same "What's in the picnic basket ?"

"You will find out... after you propose"

"That's .. that's extortion"

"They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach"

"They do, do they? You know this spoils my whole Christmas gift giving strategy."

"How so?"

"One ring was going to do double duty as a Christmas gift and as a ..."

Mary perked up. "There's a ring?"

Matthew smiled at this manifestation of Mary's mercenary instinct. "Of course there's a ring; how could there be a proposal without a ring?"

Mary smiled. "Then you are going to have to do some more Christmas shopping."

"Can't you wait until Christmas?"

"No, I've..we've already waited too long."

Matthew stood up. "Wait here".

Mary could hear him go up the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later he came back into the drawing room. Mary had started to worry maybe he had done a runner down the back stairs. When she saw him she smiled. He had washed, shaved, brushed his hair and she sniffed, put on some cologne. And he had changed his shirt and tie. He had a small jeweller's box in his hand.

Matthew walked up to her, cleared his throat and started. "Lady Mary Crawley will you..."

"Wait a minute. You have to do it properly" When he looked puzzled she continued "You have to kneel"

"There's a problem... when I got banged up ... my right side is not totally one hundred per cent so ... kneeling is a bit ..."

"Not a problem, come with me" she said as she took him by the hand and lead him to the stairs. She went up two steps and turned around. "There. Now you were saying?"

"Lady Mary Crawley will you do me the honour of continuing to be my wife?"

"Yes!" she squealed and she fell into his arms.

Luckily Matthew was able to take most of her weight on his left side. He swung her around. He kissed her. Then he put her down. "Well that's settled. What's in that picnic basket?"

"What's in that little box?"

"Oh I almost forgot. Hold out your hand and close your eyes."

Mary could feel a ring slide onto her finger.

"Open your eyes"

"Wow!" It was fabulous. It was all she could say. She tried to make the kiss she then gave him express what she felt. It was quite a kiss.

-0-

Their wedding feast consisted of smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches with cucumber. Mrs. Patmore had fretted about the paucity of it until Mary reassured her that the food would not be the focal point of the night.

The piece de resistance was a beautifully decorated double tiered wedding cake which had been nestled in a box at the bottom of the picnic basket. The moment Mrs. Patmore had been advised of Operation Honeymoon she had got to work on the cake. Matthew went into the kitchen and brought back a long knife. He handed it to Mary. She put it down and carefully lifted off the top layer and put it back in the box.

When Matthew looked puzzled she explained "We will serve it at the christening party for our first...next child." She picked up the knife "Now we cut the first piece together" and they did.

To wash down the cake Matthew opened the first bottle of champagne. He poured Mary a flute full and then one for himself. He stood and held up his glass towards Mary.

"I would like to propose a toast to the bride. It is not often that a groom is given thirty two months between the wedding ceremony and the wedding night to reflect upon his marriage vows. To find out what love, comfort and honour entail in sickness and health. To have his bride forsake great wealth and power to join with him. To have passed through great storms in the past and to face the current storm and future storms together with such a brave storm braver as her is an honour and a blessing. One of which that I hope I am worthy. I pledge all my love to that end. To the bride!" and he downed his champagne.

Mary started to tinkle her glass with her fork. He grinned at her and held out his arms to her. She stood and kissed him.

"Should we go upstairs?" she whispered in his ear.

"Just a minute. We have to dance the bride's dance first" and he took her left hand and assumed the waltz position.

"But there's no music"

He started humming in her ear as he pulled her much closer than would be thought proper in any genteel ballroom. She could not even guess what tune he was attempting but it didn't really matter. She rested her head on his shoulder.

The humming/music stopped. He looked at her. She nodded. And they headed upstairs.

-0-

Matthew allowed Mary to enter his bedroom first. She walked to the bed and sat on it. It struck him that she did not have what he would call a particularly happy expression, if anything it was pensive. She played with her diamond ring.

"This is a little awkward." he ventured.

She gave him a small smile. "It's not how I planned it."

He sat on the bed next to her and put his arm around her. She did not resist when he pulled her to him. "Tell me about your plans."

"First of all you were going to let us know when you were arriving." she elbowed him gently in the ribs.

"Most plans don't survive first contact with the enemy. What next?"

"Branson was going to meet you at the station, telling you your mother had to be at the hospital, and then he would take you here. When you arrived here you would find just me and a true wedding feast. Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Bird had quite the menu planned considering all the rationing and such. I was going to ply you with champagne and then slip upstairs where Anna would help me get ready. I have the most beautiful peach negligee all picked out. Then you would come upstairs and Molesley would help you do the same."

"Do I have peach pyjamas?"

She elbowed him again, a little harder this time. He was glad it was his left side. "Don't tease. Yours are a light blue with a royal blue pinstripe that matches your eyes. Anyway you would wait for me in the bedroom and I would make a dramatic entrance. You can guess the rest."

"No tell me. In some detail. Don't leave out anything out." This time he caught her elbow and spun to her. She fell back on the bed. He followed and kissed her. "We could postpone until tomorrow"

"No, I'm here now"

"I'll run up to the Abbey and get Anna. I don't need Molesley to help me get into my pyjamas. Does Anna know where this special negligee is?"

"It's in the dresser over there" she waved towards the wall.

"You have clothes here?"

"Quite a few actually. I've almost finished moving over. And no you don't have to go get Anna"

"What did you need her for anyway?"

"More to get me out of this dress and my corset. And take down my hair."

"How about I tear the dress off of you; cut the laces of the corset with my trusty trench knife and we'll let your hair take care of itself." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"No, no and no" She was finding it quite difficult to concentrate. He was kissing around her eyes and his moustache was tickling her.

"Then I'll help you. I've been your nursemaid, being your lady's maid will be a promotion."

"You'll see and the surprise will be spoiled."

"Not a problem" he got up, went to his closet, picked a tie off his tie rack (one he didn't like that much anyway) and tied it around his head covering his eyes. "There I can't see a thing".

She laughed and got off the bed herself. She walked towards him and all of a sudden threw a punch at his face. He grabbed her fist before it hit his nose.

"Can't see eh? But it is a good idea. Take that tie off."

While he was doing so she got a pair of socks out of his sock drawer. She folded each sock in half and got him to hold them over his eyes. She then tied the tie tightly over them.

She got his new pyjamas and laid them on the bed. She told him where they were. She picked up her negligee, took Matthew by the hand and lead him into the bathroom.

Mary stood in front of Matthew with her back to him. "There's a row of small buttons down the back of my dress. I'm not sure how many." She could feel his hands moving over her back, including her bottom. "The middle of my back, not my bottom!"

"Sorry, just needed to get orientated. You were saying?"

After he got the very small buttons undone, with some mutterings under his breath, she let the dress drop to the floor. She stepped out of it, picked it up and draped it over the chair. She stood back in front of him. "The corset has a knot at the bottom of the laces. Undo it and then just loosen the laces, you don't have to take them out."

He didn't start right away. Instead he put his hands on her waist and pulled her back to him. She could feel him breathing on her neck.

He murmured "They say a blind man's other senses are enhanced. I breath in your scent and I cannot breath out it captures me so. I can hear two hearts beating as one. I want to read your body with my fingertips as blind men read" and he ghosted his fingertips down her arms.

She shivered. She reached both arms behind her and grabbed him. "Will you undo this damned corset? And be quick about it!"

"Yes, my lady" and he worked the knot undone and then loosened the laces to the point where the corset dropped off of her.

She turned around and gave him a deep kiss. "Consider that a preview. Now go back to the bedroom and get changed. I'll be right there."

"What about your hair?"

"I can take the pins out."

"But I was looking forward to doing it."

"Next time. Now get along" and she steered him into the bedroom.

As she was heading back to the bathroom he called to her: "Should I leave the blindfold on"

"No!"

Five minutes later, well thirty minutes later, Matthew had metaphorically done his tax return, catalogued his library and considered how he would have avoided the debacle that was Man City FC's 1906 season. It had only taken him two minutes to get changed, run downstairs to use the WC, and as an afterthought grab the two bottles of champagne and the champagne flutes. What was she doing? She just had to take off her smalls, put the negligee on, shake out her hair, use the facility – what else could she be doing? He had snuck up to the bathroom and listened, half worried that he would hear crying. It sounded like she was singing to herself. Was she taking a bath? He hadn't heard much water running. What was she doing in there?

He was laying on the bed debating to himself which side should be his, the right or the left. The side closest to the door of course, but if his side was to be the left one then he would have to move the bed to the opposite wall. He was just about to do this when he heard the bathroom door open. He got up and watched the bedroom door with a hunger that surprised him.

She opened the door, came in and then closed the door behind her. He stared at her. She dropped the robe she was wearing to the floor. The sheer negligee she was wearing left nothing to the imagination and everything to the anticipation. She slowly pirouetted. She held her arms out to him. For a moment he could not move and then he was moving to her and she to him.

And then they joined as one, not to be put asunder.

_A/N: At some point this OOC AU tale of M/M will be concluded in a separate new story._


End file.
